


The Magic of Cooking

by EmerialynCodeVenice



Series: The Magic of Cooking [1]
Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, All The Emotions and Fluff, Alternate Universe - MeteorStuck, Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Cereal As A House On Fire, Cooking, Did I Mention Food Puns?, Did I Mention Pairings?, F/F, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Food Porn, Good Moirail Gamzee Makara, Humans And Trolls Trapped On Meteor, Hurt/Comfort and Angst, Karkat Jalapeno Your Business!, M/M, Multi, PALE/ASHEN LEADER KARKAT, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Possessed Cooking Book, Quadrant Vacillation, Uses Sugar And Spice To Make Everything Nice, You Butter Believe It, human food, relationship drama, they all deserve to be happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-04 08:43:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13360806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmerialynCodeVenice/pseuds/EmerialynCodeVenice
Summary: Where Karkat discovers the MAGIC of COOKING and uses FOOD to solve ALL issues and make life better.Also, pairings.ALL THE PAIRINGS.





	1. Apple-reciation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must admit, this came rather out of the blue. But, I love cooking and I love the idea of Karkat being a kind of Pale/Ashen Leader (like, seriously, Signless was pale for everyone and no one can tell me different and I have a whole thing about Ashen that I will get into in later chapters) to the group and solving all their issues with cooking.
> 
> Honestly, food is magical, and the preparation of it may be difficult, but it always ends with interesting (and worthwhile, depending on point of view) results. Probably will be a weekly update type of thing, depends on time allowing.
> 
> Please Enjoy! This chapter centers around Karkat only and how hard his life is as Leader, as well as the Discovery of the Book. Truly, no one apple-reciates him enough.
> 
> …Did I mention food puns? XD
> 
> Tags: Being Leader Is Hard; Especially When Everyone Has Fucking Issues; What Is This Book; The Magic of Cooking? WTF; Blended Apple Tea; Magical Kitchen/Meal Block; Endless Supplies and Cooking Ware; Book Has An Attitude; Universe Is Strange; What Even Is Going On

                                                                           

Karkat slammed his head against the table of the meal block, grumbling loudly beneath his breath and cursing everything to have ever existed. Not failing to include the other eleven  _grubfucking_  insane trolls and four even  _more grubfucking insane_  humans that he was  _forced_  to share on this stupid think pan addling meteor. He wouldn’t even  _bother_  getting into the events that led to them all getting stuck here, because what did it  _matter_  when they were  _still. Fucking. Stuck THERE!?_

But it wasn’t the fact that they were trapped living on a suspicious meteor hurling through space— _to who the fuck know’s where._ No, if it was just  _that_ , then Karkat believed he would capable of losing his shit fewer times a day than he currently was. No, the  _problem_ on this damn meteor was one thing:

_Relationships._

Before any  _fucking asshole can laugh_ , it should be noted that Karkat was the Unquestioned— _shut the fuck up—_ Supreme Leader of this shithole. And, as a result, it was  _his_  duty to make sure none of these nooklickers  _actually_  killed each other. So far, there had only been some multi-colored bloodshed and  _nearly_  fatal wounds—but so far they were surviving.

But, as pleased as Karkat was about the lack of death, there was  _still_  the fact that all the fucking relationship drama was. Driving. Him. Fucking.  _Insane_. It seemed that  _everyone_  was caught in some sort of ridiculous conflict or another.

Honestly, he’d about had it everyone; particularly, Eridan.  _Especially_ Eridan who seemed to be part of  _multiple_  Quadrant issues. Not only was he obviously taking advantage of his moirail, Feferi, but there was some type of shit going on between Sollux, Eridan, and Vriska. While Sollux and Eridan had been blackflirting for as long as he could remember— _no matter what those idiots said, it was true—_ but Vriska kept trying to pull Eridan into her Pitch Quadrant— _with poor Kanaya being forced to ashen between them—_ and Eridan, being the wishy-washy bitch he was, had yet to make a decision. That, of course, ruined life for  _everyone_  within a million mile radius and was a big cause for bloodshed. It certainly stressed out Feferi and Sollux’s status at matesprit, the pitiful Heiress trying her best but honestly unable to handle it. Karkat didn’t mind when Eridan came to him for relationship advice— _which was often—_ but he couldn’t even  _begin_  to figure out how to solve this mess!

Meanwhile, Vriska and Terezi were screwing around in the Pale Quadrant and Gamzee with Tavros in the Flushed Quadrant with  _non4_  of them actually doing  _something_  about the obvious feelings! He would lock them in some abandoned room like every cliche movie if he wasn’t certain that Vriska would tear down the door and Gamzee would be content to ‘sit and chill’ until he and Tavros starved!

Karkat would  _almost_  be glad for the humans if they weren’t  _also_  causing relationship issues! Particularly,  _Vacilitation Issues._  Or, at least, John and Rose were. John was  _somehow_  oblivious to the Flushed and Pitch flirtations that Vriska and Terezi keep sending his way— _though, to be fair, Karkat had to be fucking blunt as possible for John to understand and reject him all that stupid time ago—_ and causing all sorts of dumb problems as a result.

And, Rose. There was some sort of  _weird_  Pale-Flushed thing going on with her and Kanaya, but recently there seemed to be issues even with  _that_. Now, while Karkat’s was Pale-Dating Gamzee, Kanaya and he had been very close friends for years and he really felt pity for the girl for having to deal with that shit. But he couldn’t even  _begin_  to figure that out, so yeah.

_(Then there was Dave who Karkat felt emotions for but couldn’t figure out which—)_

And also about the humans, there was this weird  _‘siblings’_ thing that had apparently thrown their ‘relationships’ (but not romantic ones) out of whack. The best that Karkat could relate it to was Blood Brothers and Scourge Sisters, but apparently, it was some weird human gene thing that ‘wasn’t’ like Ancestors at all. He had no fucking clue, but it was causing problems as well.

Honestly, the only relationships that seemed to be fine were Nepeta/Equius and Sollux/Aradia, but they were both Pale Goals so Karkat wasn’t really surprised. Of course, he could be wrong, but they all  _seemed_  to be fine…

He groaned, feeling a headache come on just thinking about it all. And, the worst part, no one seemed to fucking  _appreciate_  his goddamned efforts! He understood that everyone was going a bit stir crazy being stuck on this damn meteor, but did you see  _him_ falling apart and wrecking all his quadrants— _though, he technically only had his Pale Quadrant with Gamzee at the moment; and he was the ‘chillest motherfucker’ ever so Karkat could at least appreciate that even if he understood only a quarter of what came out of that clown fucker’s mouth—_ and causing near homicide and the  _destroying_  the wits of their leader— _aka, him._

He groaned, slamming his head against the table again, raising his arms to the air without bothering to look. “For the pity of whatever fucking freak exists out there that enjoys wrecking my life, is it  _so much_  to ask for everyone to not be grubfucking insane!? To fucking  _get along_  and  _appreciate_  me as leader!? Seriously,  _anyone out there—_ ”

_THWAP_

Karkat  _cursed_  up a storm as  _something_  landed on his head, bouncing off his cranial headset before falling to the ground. He shot up, looking around wildly for whatever  _fucker_  thought it smart to mess with him  _at this moment—_

…There was no one there.

He paused, suddenly a bit more cautious. He didn’t hear or smell anyone— _shut up, Strider, trolls were not ‘bloodhounds’ or whatever the fuck that is—_ nor did he hear any quick footsteps signifying someone running off or giggles. Of course, it could be one of the humans— _probably Strider, asshole had started bothering him lately—_ flying around like the immature wrigglers they were, but he… kind of got the feeling that this wasn’t it.

Tensing, he looked down to the floor and saw what looked to be… a book? His face twisted in confusion as he cautiously reached down and picked it up, flipping it over the rainbow-colored book— _what the everloving fuck?—_ and seeing the title.

**_The Magic of Cooking_ **

He flipped again, but didn’t see an author. The front cover was a strange design of the colors of the rainbow— _with a few added shades, what the fuck?—_ and various images of food that Karkat  _swore_  changed or shifted every time he looked at it.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Who the  _fuck_  is messing with me and wants their internal organs on the outside of their body?”

There was no answer.

Angry, Karkat threw the book to the side— _why the hell would he want a cookbook?—_ where it landed on the countertop, flipping open to a bright  _candy red_ page.

A chill went up his spine at the color, already tensing and looking around if anyone had seen. After a moment of feeling ridiculous— _there was no one out to kill him, or, at least, not for his blood color; not anymore—_ he cautiously went over to the book and warily looked at the page.

**_Blended Apple Tea_ **

_Long used for relaxation, this apple-themed tea has a wide variety of herbal ingredients and blends that make for a light, refreshing, and stress-relieving tea._

_A perfect way to show someone your appreciation!_

His eyes caught that last word and he instantly recalled what he had been saying the moment that it had landed on his head. His eyes narrowed. No way.  _No fucking way_. What the hell was this!?

“That’s it, we’re done. I’m not having whatever the fuck this is,” said Karkat to no one in particular before closing the book—or, at least, he  _tried_  to close it.

It wouldn’t close.

Karkat’s brow furrowed and he tried to grip the book by the edges, looking for any crack that would allow him leverage— _how the fuck had this gotten stuck to the counter!? He’d blame some fuck for not washing the countertop after using it but no one came in here!—_ but finding no give.

Completely  _done_  with everything— _life, relationships, this fucking book—_ he threw his hands to the air, metaphorical rope threatening to  _snap_  at any moment. “Fine! The Universe wants me to make fucking tea? Well, the  _joke’s on you! THERE’S NO INGREDIENTS—_ ”

A cabinet door  _flung_  open, narrowly missing Karkat’s face— _what the hell!?—_ and revealing its contents. Which, you know, was  _odd_  given that, the last time Karkat checked, this meal block was empty as all hell besides the communal thermal hull— _or ‘refrigerator’ as the grubfucking humans called it._

Despite what he  _knew_  to be true, Karkat couldn’t deny the fact that, at least, this cabinet was filled with things. Looked to be some random green boxes with leaves on it and some sweet-smelling brown sticks…

…there was no fucking way. 

Warily, he returned to the recipe and looked at the ingredients.

**_Ingredients_ **

_8 Ounces Sliced Dried Apples_

_6 Cups Cold Water_

_2 Cinnamon Sticks_

_2 Parts WFN Dried Chamomile Flowers_

_2 Parts WFN Dried Rosehips_

_2 Parts Dried Peppermint_

_2 Parts Kava Kava_

_Honey_

He looked back at everything in the cabinet. As far he could tell, everything— _or at least various boxes and containers labeled as such—_ was there. While severely creeped out, he decided that it was best not to question it and pulled them all down on the countertop before looking at the actual recipe. What the fuck, not like he had anything else better to do.

He looked at the First Step:

  1. _Bring the Six Cups of Water to a boil in the kettle before reducing heat and simmering._



Karkat’s nose scrunched together. He was about to ask where he was going to get a pot, before stopping and looking at the cabinets wearily. He reached up, feeling stupid as fuck, before opening it with a slow  _cccrreeeeaaakkkk_.

There, on the shelf,  _and why the fuck wasn’t he surprised,_  was a shiny metal stovetop kettle. Of course, why the fuck 

He opened a random drawer and pulled out the measuring cups he found inside— _honestly, this was creepy as all fuck—_ before turning on the faucet. He measured out six cups of water— _you’d have to be a fucking idiot to have difficulty doing that—_ and dumped them into the pot. He turned on the stove, watched it for a moment— _not sure it wouldn’t explode or some shit on him—_ before returning to the instructions.

  1. _Combine the Dry Ingredients (except the Cinnamon Sticks) in the jar and cap tightly. Shake together._



Glancing back at the ingredients on the countertop— _and a convenient jar that certainly wasn’t there before that was the ‘perfect size’ for shoving things in—_ he picked out the dry ones— _it was easy; dry obviously meant they weren’t fucking dripping everywhere—_ and threw them into the jar. He started to shake them, feeling like a dumbass but deciding he had already committed to this mindfuckery.

Bored— _because, really, what was there to do when shaking this shit together—_ he decided to look down at the recipe page again. Huh, apparently there were blurbs around the page that told about the ingredients. Weird, he swore that he didn’t see that before. Deciding to look at the last ingredient— _because he **especially**  didn’t know what the fuck ‘Kava Kava’ was—_he read the words out aloud to himself, just to drown out the weird silence.

“ ** _Kava Kava_ ,”** he recited, as he shook the ingredients together— _how the fuck long was he supposed to this?_ “ _A crop that reduces anxiety, induces calmness and stress-relief to chill a person out._ ”

He paused, eyes narrowing before looking at the ceiling. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Universe? You saying I need to calm down!?”

The Universe, obviously, didn’t answer, so Karkat simply grumbled before deciding that he had ‘ _shook the ingredients’_ enough and it damn well better be mixed by now. He looked at the next step on the recipe pages:

  1. _Add the shaken Dry Ingredients to the kettle and allow to steep for 10 minutes._



He dumped the jar full of ingredients into the kettle, watching some pieces settle and float the water while others sank to the bottom, before looking at the next step.

  1. _Mix the tea with Cinnamon Sticks, letting them dissolve naturally during the 10 minutes of steeping. For added relaxing effect, breathe in the smell deeply as you do so—but be careful not to be burned by the steam._



Karkat wondered what the hell kind of instruction that was. It was like,  _oh! Here’s a way to make you feel better! But, if you’re not careful, it’ll make you feel a thousand times worse! Have a great fucking day!_  Honestly, it would be just Karkat’s  _luck_  to do just that, but he certainly wasn’t  _stupid_  enough to fail at freaking  _smelling_  something.

Vindicated, he inhaled deeply… and…  _wow…_  it… it actually did smell kind of good. He breathed in again, letting the aroma rest swirl around his head.

He pulled back, dropping the second-half of the cinnamon sticks in the tea since the first-half had long since dissolved. He suddenly felt a bit… drowsy? It was ridiculous, and he’d accuse someone of slipping him sopor if he hadn’t stood over this fucking thing and made it completely himself.

Made completely himself…

Karkat grinned, suddenly feeling a spark of victory. That’s right, Universe! He had made it’s stupid tea and it was all for  _him_! Did the Universe want any,  _too fucking bad!_ If It had, then It should have materialized and made it It’s fucking self!

_Karkat absently wondered when the last time he had slept was, before disregarding it._

He decided to stop thinking about the strangely weirdly soothing tea and read the next, and last, instruction.

  1. _Wonderful job in getting this far; get ready for a treat! Strain the tea over a net and sweeten with Honey as desired._



Karkat’s eye twitched— _this Book was fucking mocking him—_ before opening a random drawer and pulling out a strainer— _because the entire fucking meal block was in on this supply conspiracy and Karkat didn’t bother questioning it anymore—_ and followed the instructions.

He placed the strainer on top of a drink container— _which he also pulled out from the cabinet he swears he got the kettle from before and didn’t fucking see anything else—_ and carefully poured the tea into it. Steam rose, filling him with that relaxing aromatic scent once more, as he dripped every last drop into it.

Removing the strainer, he picked up the weird honey beast— _bear, as the humans would say—_  and poured four big drops of honey— _how the fuck was he supposed to know how much to add? It also made him nervous since it looked a lot like Mind Honey—_ before setting it off to the side and stirring it some more.

Opening a cabinet, Karkat reached in and grabbed an outrageously cute teacup with little apples on it— _what the fuck, why not?—_ and poured some of the Blended Apple Tea into it. He swirled it around, appreciating the relaxing lime color, before going over to sit at his previous spot where the Book had hit him before.

He sat back, swirling the mixture in the cup for a moment before deciding it was cool enough and taking a swallow. His eyes popped before drifting shut. It was surprisingly  _good_. If he had thought it  _smelled_  good before, it was nothing compared to how it actually  _tasted_.

Suddenly, Karkat felt quite a bit of vindication and, strangely enough, satisfaction. That’s right, he had made this delicious tea and only  _he_  could drink it! Even if everyone else wasn’t fucking asleep,  _he_  had made this and certainly wasn’t going to share! Spoils to the victor and Karkat was certainly the victor!

Sipping at the tea, he found himself enjoying the silence around him. It was very different from during the day— _or whatever the hell was day in this fucking place—_ where the creepy halls of the meteor were filled with arguments and random strifes that Karkat was forced to break up. It was quiet. Peaceful. Dare he say it,  _relaxing_.

He slouched further, that unusual…  _content_  feeling seeming to grow stronger as his stomach grew warm with the tea. While he was certainly not cured of all his ails and worries, he would admit that this recipe was better than he gave it credit for. And it wasn’t think pan addling like that Faygo or sopor-pie shit that Gamzee had. No, this was even  _healthy_ , Karkat was almost giddy to note.

To be honest, the whole process hadn’t been  _that_  bad. While he knew he would have to eventually clean up the mess he made, he almost found this whole thing to be worth it.

Before he knew it, the tiny tea cup was empty of all its Blended Apple Tea and Karkat was left staring at it before looking at the kettle where another five cups waited for him. He considered it before walking over to the stove, about to pour another cup when he noticed the Book. It wasn’t like it had changed shape or form, but it seemed… different somehow.

Cautious, Karkat reached over and poked it. To his surprise, it actually  _moved_. Blinking, he picked up the edge and found that it would now lift up, no longer fucking stuck to the countertop. Still thinking it had to be a trick, he slowly placed the pages together until the cover shown again. It had closed…

He glanced at the Book’s title— _The Magic of Cooking—_ before back at the container full of steaming tea. He smirked, pouring himself another cup of tea and putting the Book under his armpit before walking out.

He could clean later. For now, he had some delicious Blended Apple Tea to enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go! The first chapter of The Magic Of Cooking! Poor Leader Karkat, stressed and overworked by relationship drama, had discovered the book that will be the answer to all his problems! …or will it? Whatever happens, it will certainly be interesting!
> 
> If you have any ideas, I'm always open for inspiration! Can’t promise I’ll use them (especially since I have, like, the first eleven chapters already planned… though it’ll take forever to write on college student time). However, I will always respond and try my best to incorporate and give credit!
> 
> So, please leave a Kudos and Comment if you want more of Karkat solving all issues with the Magic of Cooking!


	2. Detox Tea Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat tries to figure out the secrets of the Book while Kanaya comes to Karkat with her own Rose-flavored worries...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the Second Chapter of the Magic of Cooking! I hoped you enjoyed the previous chapter of Karkat’s struggle and the Book randomly appearing in his life. Yeah, have no clue where that came from, but as long as it helps, who cares! 
> 
> So this chapter centers around Kanaya. I thought that it’d be good for Karkat to be able to talk about this random occurrence to someone who won’t think he’s immediately crazy and will actually converse with him, but still have issues of their own for the Book to want to solve. Thus, I came up with this scenario of Kanaya seeing Karkat studying the Book and, during the process, revealing her woes with Rose. Wonder what the Book has in store for that? 
> 
> Now, the ingredients for this Grape Detox Tea may seem… weird. But, believe me, the person I know who makes this stuff. It's freaking crazy, but it actually tastes pretty awesome. In fact, I’m not a tea person at all, but, when I do have tea, I have to have it fruity. 
> 
> TAGS: TELL ME YOUR SECRETS BOOK; Kanaya Worrying For Karkat’s Sanity; Kanaya/Rose Issues; Alcohol Issues; Book Has Solution!; Grape Detox Tea; Rose Is A Grape; Karkat and Kanaya Strong Friendship; Alcoholism Is Bad; Seriously, Rose, What The Hell; Mortar and Pestle Everyone!; Blenders are Torture Devices; Good Ending

                                                                              

Karkat’s eyes narrowed at the leather-bound body in front of him, studying the angles and size efficiently before slowly turning his head away… and then _snapping_ his head back and slamming his hands on the table!

…Nothing happened.

He scowled, staring at the volume of the _Magic of Cooking_ sitting ‘innocently’ on the table before him. It had been a few days since he had made that Blended Apple Tea— _and had actually made every night since—_ and he admitted that he could feel it’s relaxing effect every time he drank it. However, it was ruined by the fact that his peaceful state was _destroyed_ the moment he ran into anyone—the relationship issues ever present on this fucking meteor never seeming to cease.

But that wasn’t his problem right now— _or, rather, it was, but he was actively ignoring it and if they culled each other, oh well._ Instead, his current goal was to find out _what the hell was going on with this **Book**_.

He was sure it was possessed, or somehow sentient. He was certain about that. Ever since he had taken it back to his respiteblock, it hadn’t randomly opened or stuck to a surface, leaving him free to peruse the endless pages— _seriously, while there were only a few hundred pages, he swore that what was **in** them changed and only reliably fell in the sections of ‘Main Dishes, Appetizers, Desserts, Beverages’ which all went into their own expansive categories that made his head spin—_with it’s _snarky_ and _knowing_ comments hidden on various pages. The pages, themselves, were all different colors, some even blended truly atrocious colors— _like there was there one that was a violent pattern of yellow and violet that was awful—_ but that wasn’t Karkat’s problem.

He knew, _knew_ , that the Book had done… something before. Looking back at when he had thrown it, he was pretty sure that it had turned to that Candy Red Page with the Blended Apple Tea recipe on it on _purpose._ It sounded crazy, but, honestly, Karkat had experienced weirder and wasn’t going to lose sleep on it— _he already lost enough with these fucking, think-pan addled idiots he was forced to share the meteor with_. But, for the life of him, he couldn’t get it to _do_ anything.

He was beyond suspicious.

“May I inquire to what you’re doing, Karkat?”

Karkat glanced over and saw Kanaya walk into the meal block, relaxing once he saw that it was her. Kanaya and him had been close friends since they were young, and he considered her to be one of the few _sane_ individuals on this meteor. Honestly, he would be far crazier without her around.

“Checking out this Book,” answered Karkat, sticking a thumb out at the _Magic of Cooking—I know you’re alive fucker, just try **something** —_and scowling. “It’s alive, but it’s not doing anything right now like an asshole.”

Kanaya stared at him for a moment before her eyes slid over to the Book on the table. Gratefully, she didn’t say anything, but Karkat knew that she was probably worrying for his sanity. Frankly, he was worried himself. Maybe he had finally gone crazy from all the relationship drama and he was just imagining all of this with the Book— _though he’d have to have imagined the self-supplying meal block and ingredients… as well as the fact that the kettle was still sitting on the stove over there where Karkat had cleaned and left it last night…_

“What are you doing here?” asked Karkat instead. “Shouldn’t you be bothering your squishy human matesprit-moirail—whatever the fuck you guys are?”

To his surprise, Kanaya visibly slouched. It was shocking because Kanaya, for as long as he had known her, _never_ had looked like that. Immediately, he was on guard, feeling protective feelings come to the surface. “What’s wrong? What did Rose do? I swear, if she did _anything_ , I don’t fucking care how god-tier works, I’ll _cull—_ ”

“No,” said Kanaya quickly, stopping Karkat’s murderous rage in it’s path. “It’s… it’s nothing like that.”

“Really?” asked Karkat with a raised eye ridge. “It sure as fuck doesn’t sound like nothing.”

She sighed, sitting down in the chair beside Karkat at the table, threading her fingers together in a way that Karkat _knew_ meant she was stressed. What the fuck happened?

“It’s simply… it does have to do with Rose,” admitted Kanaya finally. _Knew it_. “But it’s more that I’m concerned _for_ her than rather than that she has done anything. Or, rather, I suppose she has, but to herself.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” asked Karkat, slightly on edge. Rose had always seemed like the most competent human— _though that wasn’t much of a contest given the competition—_ but she had been showing up less as of late. And, even if she did, she seemed sullen and snappier than usual.

“She has been consuming something the humans call ‘alcohol,’” said Kanaya finally, getting to the point. “I’ve heard that it’s an addictive substance like sopor and with similar mind-addling and mood-altering effects.”

Karkat tenses. That was _definitely_ not good. While he didn’t know anything about this ‘alcohol,’ he knew that for it to be compared to _sopor_ was a serious problem. It was already enough of an issue with Gamzee, but there wasn’t much that they could do given that he had been fucked from the start and eating the shit since he was a few sweeps old. But, _Rose_. She was a _god-tier_. If she became unable to handle her moods and started causing trouble… it could really go bad.

The mutant glanced at Kanaya, studying her for a moment. He had never seen her so… despondent. She obviously hid it well, but it was depressing to see someone usually so optimistic and put-together so low. Of course, if Karkat had a matesprit, he’d feel the same— _he was kind of used to it with his moirail, Gamzee._

“And I’m guessing that’s it’s affecting your relationship,” said Karkat a bit more gently, feeling pity for the other troll.

Kanaya nodded, actually _dabbing_ at her eyes— _and holy shit, how could he have let it go this far, she was fucking about to **cry** —_and taking a shaky breath. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “I pity her, so much, as both a matesprit, moirail, and girlfriend, but she just hasn’t been letting me _in_. And, while I could understand if she wished to terminate our relationship, I find that, even then, I wouldn’t be able to stop worrying about her health and how this ‘alcohol’ is affecting it.”

“Rose is a fucking addled wriggler if she doesn’t see how much you care about her,” growled Karkat. “Fucking seriously, _anyone_ would be lucky to have you in their Quadrants and I’ll beat whoever says differently. Second of all, do you have any idea _why_ she started drinking that human filth?”

Kanaya frowned, her brow furrowing—but at least she didn’t look as depressed with something to think about. “I believe so,” she said after a moment. “Like all addicts with sopor, I believe that she has turned to alcohol as a physical source of comfort and relief from the stress of our current situation and things to come. I know that she has been having trouble sleeping. I believe her abilities as a Seer of Light keep her up, thus she becomes exhausted and stressed. From there, she drinks some more, likely making her unable to control her abilities, and starting a vicious cycle that I believe will only become worse.”

She glanced at him. “I honestly do not believe she will become violent or a danger,” she affirmed, likely knowing Karkat’s earlier thoughts. “But I still worry for what shall happen if this cycle continues too long. I…”

She slouched. “I don’t know what to do.”

_Fwip_

Kanaya startled and Karkat tensed, already knowing that sound from having heard it countless times while rustling through the pages of the Magic of Cooking. He cautiously looked at the table to where the Book laid and was unsurprised to see it laying open, this time on a Purple Page.

Cautious as ever around the possessed Book, Karkat looked over and read the page:

**_Detox Grape Tea_ **

_This detox tea is great for those recovering from alcohol cravings or needing a good night’s rest. Filled with ingredients that calm the mind and center the body, this tea is a sure way to help take some of the burden off a loved one’s shoulders._

_Now in Grape flavor!_  

Karkat scowled, literally _hearing_ the Book’s smug tone and wondering if he shouldn’t be throwing it out of the nearest chute into the great unknown. _It’d probably just come flying back, the fucker._

“Karkat…” began Kanaya tentatively, her eyes likely scanning the same words that his had just been. “What is this book?”

Karkat proceeded to tell Kanaya about the Book Incident from a few days ago, about how the thing had just fallen on his head— _and admitting to what he had been ranting about that the time—_ and how he had proceeded to cook the Blended Apple Tea. He even admitted how relaxed it made him feel.

“It definitely didn’t solve all my fucking problems,” warned Karkat. “But I’ll admit it… helped. So, it might be a fucking sentient Book, but there’s a slight, _slight_ , chance that it may be able to help with Rose… like it did for me before.”

“Then, I must try,” said Kanaya, squaring her shoulders. “If there is any chance for this to help Rose with her present condition—I will do it.”  
Her determined stance faltered as she looked over the recipe. “But… I admittedly do not know many of these words. Or where we will find these ingredients. I’m not sure the alchemizer is diverse enough to supply us what we need.”

“Actually, that’s one thing we don’t have to fucking worry about.” Karkat strolled over to the cabinet, pulling it open wide. He was relieved when he saw a stack of ingredients— _some of them already matching the ones on the recipe—_ sitting there. He would have looked fucking stupid if he had opened it and nothing had been there. “Told you that they just fucking appeared.”

He grinned at Kanaya’s surprised expression before gesturing to the Book again. “What do we need?”

Kanaya cleared her throat, leaning in closer to the table to read off the ingredients:

**_Ingredients_ **

_6 Cups of Cold Water_

_2 Cups Grapes_

_4 Scoops Lemonade Mix_

_1 ¾ Cups Sugar_

_1 Teaspoon Dried Lemon Balm_

_1 Teaspoon Dried Peppermint_

_1 Teaspoon Fennel Seeds_

_1 Teaspoon Dried Rose Petals_

_1 Teaspoon Dried Lavendar Flowers_

_1 Teaspoon Valerian_

_1 Teaspoon Dandelion Root_

_2 Slices Dried Licorice Root_

_1 Strand Licorice_

_Honey (as needed)_

_Heavy Cream or Milk (as needed)_

Karkat raised a brow, noting that this one had a _lot_ more than the Blended Apple Tea. Figured that something for Rose would be complicated as fuck. _Not to mention it had **actual** rose petals as part of the process, what the hell? _ He directed Kanaya to get the water and put it in the kettle already guessing that the first step was to set it to boil. He checked the Book to make sure, feeling slightly smug when he found out he was correct.

  1. _Place a kettle of filtered water onto the stove and bring it to a boil._


  1. _While the water comes to a boil, place Herbs and Spices into a mortar and crush with a pestle until roughly combined._



Karkat raised his brow. What the _hell_ was a _mortar_ and _pestle_? He warily opened a cabinet, peering over the edge to see what would show up.

He found what appeared to be a small stone bowl and some sort of short, blunt club-shaped object. What the _fuck_?

“What is next?”

Karkat jumped— _only a small bit, mind you—_ nearly forgetting that Kanaya was in the meal block with him. She had already set the kettle on the oven, likely finding measuring cups in the drawers after watching his example. Good to know that the magic meal block wasn’t just obsessed with him.

He pulled out the mortar and pestle, handing them to her before looking into the Book for instruction. Beside the recipe, there was an image of the bowl and a description:

**_Mortar and Pestle_ **

_A meal block device used since ancient times to prepare ingredients or substances by crushing them and grinding them to a fine powder or paste._

“Ah, I see,” said Kanaya after a moment, not sound too confident with the instruction.

Karkat snorted before picking out the containers labeled Lemon Balm, Peppermint, Fennel Seeds, Rose Petals, Lavender Flowers, and Dried Licorice Root. He pushed them towards her helpfully. “Here, just crush these as much as you can, and I think we’ll be fine.”

She nodded, obviously determined, before carefully opening each container. Before she could search for a teaspoon, Karkat handed her one from the same drawer that he had found the measuring cups last time.

While she was carefully crushing the dried ingredients, Karkat decided he was going to find out what the hell was going on with the rest of the recipe. He looked at Step Three:

  1. _After that is all done, begin washing the grapes by soaking them in water and some salt. This removes the dirt from it. Once finished, drain the water._



Karkat’s eyebrow ridge raised higher than ever. What the ever-loving fuck was a grape? He realized that it was in the name of the tea, but didn’t realize until now he had no fucking clue where he was supposed to find them.

He warily looked in the cabinet, wondering if it would magically show up. There was nothing there and he scowled. If it wasn’t a dry ingredient, where the fuck would it be? At least, last time, the apples had just shown up with the others—

_Pop_

Karkat twitched, turning around to where he had heard the sound. Immediately, he saw that the thermal hull was opened by an inch. _Ah, of fucking course_.

He walked over confidently and wrenched the door open, ignoring the random alchemized shit and grubloafs inside it—almost immediately spotting the purple bowl with some sort of strange plant with purple spheres hanging from it. If those weren’t the fucking ‘grapes,’ he’d throw his pathetic excuse for a think-pan addled carcass off the meteor himself.

The red-blooded troll pulled it out, glancing inside and seeing that it was just a bowl of grapes but with no water in it. He walked over to the sink, turning on the water and diving his hands to get the fucking washing done already—

_Squish_

Startled, Karkat looked at the purple juice now coating his fingers, only realizing that he had apparently _crushed_ one of the grapes between his fingers when he felt the squishy skin.

“Is something the matter?” asked Kanaya from the counter, a small _scrape scrape_ accompanying her movements with the pestle as she added some Dried Licorice Root to the mortar.

“Fucking _grapes_ are more delicate than newborn wrigglers,” replied Karkat, gritting his teeth in frustration as he _delicately_ washed the rest of them, only crushing about six in the process. When it was finally done, he was all too ready to go to the next part of the process and read off the next instruction so both of them could hear.

  1. _Put the Grapes in a blender and puree till smooth. After that, strain it and get as much juice as possible._



He paused, trying to make sense of whatever the _fuck_ that meant. He repeated the instructions incredulously, looking around in search for this ‘ _blender_.’

At the corner of his eye, he saw a bottom cabinet door _slightly_ opened and strolled over, kneeling down and yanking it open. Inside was the _weirdest_ contraption yet, some sort of glass cup on top of a white bottom. It had a cord attached to it, so he assumed that it was electrical and needed to go on the countertop as a result.

He pulled it out, cursing when he realized that the glass cup and the white bottom weren’t _exactly_ connected and he nearly shattered the glass cup by dropping it, and set it on the countertop. He plugged it in before staring at the raised buttons on it. There was a mind-boggling wide variety, but was relieved when he saw _‘Puree’_ halfway through.

He returned to the sink and drained the water from the grapes, dumping them into the blender a moment later. He put the cap on, pressing the _Puree_ button.

_WHIRL_

“ _What the_ _fuck—_ ” Karkat rapidly pressed the _‘Off’_ button, blood-pusher beating frantically in his chest as he stared at the _torture device_ that sat on his countertop. What the ever-loving fuck was that!?

“Oh dear,” Karkat looked over, to see Kanaya staring at him with a worried expression. “Was that… correct?”

“I’m doing it right!” defended Karkat, pointing at the instruction in the Book. “It says to press _puree_ to blend this shit! Not my fault it makes a fucking racket!”

“I see. Well, carry on then.”

A smile tugged at Kanaya’s lips, and it was then that Karkat realized he hadn’t seen it often. Or, at least, not a genuine smile. This one wasn’t that large, but it was far preferable to the reserved, polite air that Kanaya had putting on lately. He knew that he had been busy with his duties as a leader, but he resolved to pay better attention to his friend.

Feeling emboldened, Karkat returned to the blender and pressed the puree button once again, refusing to jump when it started that _noise_ again. He watched as the grapes whirled around, getting stuck on the edges of the glass before inevitably being turned into a goopy red-purple mess. It was kind of disturbing if he was being honest.

When it was finally done with its destruction, Karkat turned off the torture device and pulled the cap off. He reached into a top cabinet and brought out a strainer, placing it over the bowl he had used to wash the grapes before pouring the pureed mess into it.

It left behind a disgusting mess of purple seeds and bits. He grimaced, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a spoon before pressing down on the bits, trying to get as much juice as possible before discarding the other bits into the waste shoot. He returned to the Book, reading off the next step.

  1. _Add the pureed Grape Juice to the boiling water along with the 4 scoops of Lemonade Mix and Sugar._



He nodded to himself. Easy enough. He brought the bowl of grape juice over to the tea and dumped it into the kettle, swearing when he got splatters of juice over the countertop and even on his _clothes—it better wash out or that would be fucking bullshit—_ before grabbing the packets of Lemonade Mix and dumping them inside. He checked the cabinets for ‘Sugar’ and found a large bag of it, too large to properly fit in there.

Karkat groaned, squeezing it out and setting it on the counter, deciding it could just fucking _stay_ out for all he cared. He had seen it in a lot of other recipes while flipping through the Book last night, so he had a feeling he would be seeing it again.

  1. _Now add all the dry ingredients to the kettle, using the licorice strand to help stir and dissolve into the mixture._



“Hey, Kanaya,” voiced Karkat, looking over to the jade-blooded troll. “You done with that?”

Kanaya looked up and nodded, displaying a finely crushed powder that Karkat would swear _hadn’t_ been solid before if he hadn’t been watching Kanaya add the various ingredients into it. Dammit, she was better at this than him! He nodded and gestured over to the kettle.

She walked over and slowly poured the ingredients into it the kettle, raising a hand when Karkat went to stir the mixture with the licorice strand. “May I do it?” asked Kanaya, a small fire in her eyes. “I appreciate your help, but it would not be fair for me to have you do these final steps when this is all for my benefit.”

_‘And Rose’s benefit,’_ thought Karkat idly, but he nodded, handing over the licorice strand and watching her dip it into the water and begin mixing gently. She really cared about that squishy human, didn’t she? He really didn’t know what the human had done to earn the jade-blooded troll’s affection and pity, but he hoped for her own fucking sake that she didn’t screw it up any more than she already obviously had.

He looked at the next step, already suspecting what it contained but doing it anyway to see if he was right. _Guess what, he was._

  1. _Strain the tea over a net and sweeten with Honey or Milk as desired. I’m very certain that this will help you in your many problems._



Karkat snorted, rolling his eyes before looking over at the ‘Word Blurbs’ (as he had spontaneously decided to call them). He had been so busy with figuring out where the grapes were and what a blender was that he hadn’t really bothered to look at the extra bits beside the whole ‘mortar and pestle’ thing.

**_Detox_ **

_The word ‘detox’ refers to a process or period in time in which one abstains from or rids the body of toxic or unhealthy substances. In this case, the properties of the herbs in this tea help along this process while boosting the body’s ability to resist._

His eyebrows raised and he immediately thought about Gamzee, wondering if this shit would… help him too. He was pretty sure that years of damage that the sopor had done to his body was irreversible, but, maybe…

He shook his head— _though privately noting to save a cup and bring it to his dumbfuck moirail later on—_ and checked on Kanaya’s process. She was still stirring the Detox Grape Tea, so he decided to read another blurb for the hell of it.

**_Dandelion Root_ **

_An excellent herb that cleanses and strengthens the liver when recovering from long-term alcohol use. Also used to cure a wide area of problems and health issues._

“Karkat, I think it’s ready?”

Karkat looked up from the Book and walked over to the boiling tea, the smell of grapes and strange herbs filling the air. It definitely wasn’t as pleasant as his Blended Apple Tea, but he supposed it was fine. Smelled fucking healthy and all that shit, and, from what he read, it would help Rose with her ‘alcohol’ issues or whatever so he didn’t really fucking care.

He checked it over before nodding, deciding that it was probably as ready as it would ever fucking be. “Sure, just turn it off and let it cool so your matesprit doesn’t burn off her fucking tongue.”

“Do… you think that she still wants to be my matesprit?” asked Kanaya suddenly.

Karkat glanced over, about to go off on another tangent about how Rose would be _insane_ not to, until he thought better of it. He breathed out. “To be honest, I really don’t know Rose that well,” he admitted. “All I know mainly comes from you since most of my interactions have been her being vague and precocious as fuck. Still, from what I’ve seen, I don’t think she’s the type of person to make a choice lightly. If she said that she wanted a relationship with you, then, at the very least, she has emotions for you.”

He shrugged. “And when she’s not acting like a nooklicking _‘woe is me, I see the future and am so fucking smart’_ she does seem to be pretty decent and fond of you. I have no fucking clue if she’ll get over whatever problems she has right now, but she definitely could do worse than you helping her out."

Suddenly, he gave her a stern look. “And _you_ need to be honest with her,” he stated, feeling emboldened by yet another successful recipe. “I know you like to be fucking polite and not hurt the feelings of others or whatever, but you need to let her _know_ how this affecting you. I’m not saying she should get a pass at being an incompetent partner, but it’s obvious that their human culture was messed up and we need to hold their hand every second of the way.”

He reached into the cabinet and brought out two teacups, these depicting a grape resting upon a bright green leaf— _now he knew for sure there was some sort of fucking conspiracy—_ and setting them on the countertop, pouring the tea out over the strainer and pushing the steaming teacups over to her.

“I can’t say how this will go,” he added. “I’m not the one who can see the future, but know that I’ll try however the fuck I can even if it means I have to brew this goddamned tea every half hour.”

Kanaya picked up one cup, swirling it around. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, the steam wafting around her face. She opened her mouth—

“Kanaya, Karkat. Is that smell… grapes?”

Karkat and Kanaya looked over, seeing a certain Seer of Light walk by the doorway to the meal block— _meal block, whatever, Karkat was being affected by these fucking human words—_ before stepping inside.

Karkat eyed her sunken eyes and obvious tiredness. She was hiding it well, especially with her hood over her face, but he wasn’t hatched yesterday and, now that he was looking for it, could see what had Kanaya so worried. To be frank, she looked like shit.

“Yeah,” he said loudly, gesturing to the mess in the meal block. “Kanaya made you some tea. Don’t be an ungrateful wriggler and have some.”

Kanaya gave him an alarmed look before blushing towards Rose. She held out the teacup that she had been holding, not quite looking at Rose in the eyes.

Karkat was about to nudge her— _he told her to be **direct** , goddamn it—_when she straightened and looked at Rose eye-to-eye. “Rose,” she said firmly. “I would like you to drink this. As your girlfriend and friend, I am worried about your health.”

“My health?” asked Rose, already going on guard by the way that Karkat saw her tense. “I’m sorry if I have worried you, Kanaya, but I’m—”

“Are obviously not fine,” interrupted Karkat, gesturing to the bags under her eyes. “I don’t have to be a fucking barkbeast to smell that ‘alcohol’ shit on you. Apparently, it’s like sopor, and, if you know anything about sopor, there’s _nothing_ good about consuming that shit.”

Rose’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe that I—”

“And what about me?” interrupted Kanaya, turning the attention to her. She locked eyes with Rose, not looking away in the least. “You’ve been shutting me out and acting differently. I do not know for certain the cause or if you wish to terminate our relationship, but I am worried for you regardless.”

The air seemed to leave Rose’s sails, the seer even taking a step back. “Kanaya… I—”

“I pity you, Rose,” said Kanaya straight out, making Karkat wonder if he should be leaving but unwilling to detract from this moment. “Or, as you prefer it, I _care_ for you from the bottom of my soul. You have told me yourself about your mother’s alcoholism and I do not wish to see the same thing happen to you as to what you have said happened to her. You said that it ruined your relationship, and I do not wish for that to happen to us.”

Kanaya held out the teacup once again, her eyes never leaving Rose’s. “So, please, drink this. It’s… a Detox Grape Tea. Supposedly, it has many relaxing properties that will help you. I do not completely understand what is causing you stress, whether it be me or something else, but I wish to help any way that you wish—no matter your decision for our romantic relationship.”

It was quiet for a moment, all breaths held.

Then, Rose was reaching out, taking the teacup from Kanaya’s hands. She lifted it to her mouth and blew the steam off the top. She tilted it back and Karkat heard her softly swallow.

She lowered it, her eyes flickering to Kanaya, down at the cup, at Karkat, and then back at Kanaya. “… thank you, Kanaya,” said Rose, her voice quiet. “It’s… delicious.”

Karkat couldn’t help but grin, knowing that the ‘ _thank you’_ from before wasn’t just for the tea.

Kanaya outright beamed. “You should thank, Karkat,” she said shyly. “He was the one who taught me how to make it." 

Rose gave an inquisitive glance over to Karkat before looking at the Book on the table. She walked over, touching the pages for a moment before flipping it shut. Karkat hadn’t tested it’s ‘stickiness’ to the table before, but he knew that had he tried that a minute ago, it likely wouldn’t have budged.

“I believe that I foresee a private conversation with Kanaya in my future,” spoke Rose airily, a small smile tugging at her lips as she held the Book out to Karkat. “Would you be so kind as to leave us alone for now? I truly appreciate your help, but I think we can take it from here.”

Karkat snorted, knowing when to take a hint and reaching out to take the Book. “You know what I foresee? You guys cleaning this fucking mess while I go enjoy a movie in my respiteblock.”

Kanaya smiled, nodding as she stepped closer to Rose, her fingers tangling with the human’s and creating an immediately interesting blend of gray and pale. “Of course,” she said. “Thank you so much, Karkat.”

Karkat smirked, holding his free hand up as he walked out of the meal block.

There were just some things that didn’t need to be said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading Chapter 2 of the Magic of Cooking! Please leave a Kudos and Comments if you want more! Chapter 3: Pure As Vanilla Cake (*cough* DaveKat *cough*) should be released next Saturday, so please stay tuned if you're in support! 
> 
> Now, it should be noted that Rose had not been drinking long, making it so that she’s not really addicted—yet. But she definitely has a problem, making this a very delicate situation to handle. 
> 
> I’m also aware that non-alcoholic drinks that mimic alcohol can cause recovering alcoholics to relapse, but I also know a lot of cases in addiction where the addicted party was given something ‘similar’ to their addiction (but not actually harmful) that actually allowed them to put their focus on this substitute instead (like chewing sunflower seeds or gum for former tobacco users). 
> 
> In this case, Rose turned to alcohol as an escape from her problems and stress-relief, and, while tea is certainly not as strong, it still does wonders for the body and calmness of the mind when brewed properly. Since this is grape flavor, it will allow Rose's mind to think that it’s the same as wine while also purging her body given the ‘detox’ properties. 
> 
> At the end of the day, it’s Rose choice what she wants to do, but with an ‘alternative’ she really doesn’t have an excuse and will make it easier for Kanaya to help her with this process. 
> 
> Again, I’m not a licensed practitioner and will not swear by anything, but I have seen this method work and I thought it a good Segway to how Kanaya and Rose first get involved in this cooking process. 
> 
> Also, it should be noted that the cooking part of this wasn’t very heavy on conversation and feelings jam and thus a bit slow. That’s because Karkat is still rather new at this whole ‘cooking’ thing. He needs to be actively reading and concentrating on every step of the process. As time goes on, he’ll be able to multi-task and provide those interwoven feeling jams we all love. Also, it has a lot to do with the conversation partner. Kanaya isn’t the chattiest troll in the world. Might redo this chapter later, time allowing.


	3. Vanilla Beginnings Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starting a new relationship, or trying to change an existing one, is never easy. Especially when you’re Karkat. And especially when dealing with a Strider. 
> 
> Hopefully cake solves everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the first and main flushed romance of the story! That’s right, get ready for Dave Strider! 
> 
> TAGS: Mixing Is A Jerk; STRIDER ALERT; Snarky Conversations; Beginnings Vanilla Cake Is… A Lot Of Things; Self-Hatred; Dave Hates His Eye Color; Just Kiss Already You Two

                                                                                             

“Whoa, what blew up in here?”

Karkat gripped the wooden spoon— _not hard enough to snap, but he knew there would be fucking imprints—_ before turning around to glare at the newcomer, still holding the bowl filled with butter and sugar— _not fucking **cooperating** butter and sugar. _

“What the hell do you want, _Strider_?”

The asshole who _obviously_ didn’t understand when he wasn’t wanted strolled into the meal block, looking like a complete douche with his shades on and looking at the silver mixing bowl in Karkat’s hand.

“Nothing much, was bored and wanted a snack and now I’m here.” Strider’s eyebrows raised as he overlooked the scene before back at Karkat. “Whoa, are you cooking? I didn’t know you could cook.”

“There’s a _lot_ you don’t know about me, nook-sniffer,” Karkat hissed, before gesturing at the door with his head, patience waning quickly. “Now, get lost!”

Instead of leaving like _any sane person_ , Strider walked closer, giving off every vibe of ‘I’m curious’ possible. Well, curiosity killed the meowbeast so Karkat hoped the same would happen in the next few seconds to this overly _curious_ red-obsessed idiot.

“What are you making?” asked Strider, oblivious to Karkat’s internal thoughts of misfortune towards his form.

… _no suck fucking luck._

Strider visibly turned towards the countertop behind the troll and, before Karkat could stop him, flash-stepped over to the open Book on the counter. He hummed, even as the troll tensed at the sight of the human trailing a finger down the white-colored pages, and began reading out loud:

**_Vanilla Beginnings Cake_ **

_One of the most basic types of cake, it’s a perfect start to become more familiar with the art of cooking desserts without much chance for failure or—_  

Karkat quickly pulled the book away before Strider could finish reading out loud, his face bright red as he waved his wooden spoon wildly—as if that could somehow exorcise the smirking douchebag.

“What are you still doing here?” grouched Karkat, hoping the human would spontaneously combust even if it meant he would have to clean the splatter. “If your tiny little brain really can’t comprehend it, _yes_ , I am cooking. What the fuck do you care?”

Strider shrugged. “No reason, just that some homemade cake sounds really fucking good right now.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t mind sharing, would you Karkitty?”

“Call me that again and I’ll rip out your load gaper,” warned Karkat, grip likely denting the metal bowl. “And, in case you didn’t get through your think pan before— _no_.”

The Knight of Time sighed dramatically. “Always so cruel,” he joked. “C’mon, please? I’d love to lick the frosting from the spoon—as long as you don’t get any weird ideas from it.”

He waggled his eyebrows again and Karkat stared at him incredulously, wondering how the fuck this human had somehow survived as many sweeps as he had. Instead of pondering out that impossible conundrum, he gestured at his bowl where the two sticks of butter _refused_ to mix properly with the sugar.

If he was being honest, it was _extremely_ discouraging after the success he had with the Blended Apple Tea and Grape Detox Tea— _of course, those had been **tea** and were very different from this Beginnings Vanilla Cake bullshit_. “Look for your fucking self, even your pan-addled brain can tell there’s no _cake_ yet, so you can go screw yourself.”

Instead of leaving like his Supreme Leader had so kindly asked, the squishy human actually stepped _closer_ before looking over to the Book. “Uh, aren’t you supposed to be mixing this together?”

Karkat glowered, lifting the buttery wooden spoon in response. “What the fuck do you think I’m doing?”

The blonde’s eyebrows furrowed as he tilted his head. “I think you’re doing it wrong,” he said slowly.

_Don’t kill the human, don’t kill the human, don’t kill the human—_

“Well how the _fuck_ am I supposed to be doing it?” Karkat exploded, _slamming_ the bowl to the table and gesturing at the first few instructions of the book.

  1. _Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Butter the bottom of 9-inch-round cake pans._



“Done and done,” said Karkat snidely, gesturing to the preheated stove and cake pans on the countertop, before pointing to the next one.

  1. _Mix the 2 sticks of Butter and Sugar in a large bowl until light and fluffy._



When Karkat was about to continue with how _wrong_ Strider was, the human fuck had the _audacity_ to interrupt.

“Dude, I think you’re reading it wrong,” said Strider, pointing at the instruction again.

Karkat was about to blow his top— _having struggled for the last ten minutes since this stupid Book had randomly opened to the page—_ when he noticed the words that the human was pointing to.

  1. _Beat the 2 sticks of Butter and Sugar in a large bowl with a mixer on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about three minutes._



Karkat’s jaw dropped. What the fuck!? That… _definitely_ hadn’t been like that before! That’s it, he was going to take this Book and _burn—_

“Found one, sweet. Didn’t know we had one.”

Karkat spun around until he saw Da— _Strider_ kneeling on the floor next to one of the cabinets, pulling out a large, red contraption that Karkat had _no_ fucking idea what it was. The fact that it was a _bright candy red—like Karkat’s blood color and Dave’s fucking godtier outfit—_ only served to clarify that the Book was _really trying to piss him off._

“What, the fuck is that?” he asked slowly, watching Strider heave it— _apparently it was heavy; good, he hoped Strider dropped it and broke his foot—_ up on to the countertop. “Another one of your human torture devices like that thing?”

Karkat pointed a thumb towards the corner of the meal block where the ‘blender’ currently resided. Every time he heard it, he knew that it was probably just Kanaya making more Grape Detox Tea for Rose, but he still loathed its very existence.

“Human torture…?” Strider snorted, looking contemplative. “I guess if you ask John, yes, it is, but for us regular old humans I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be helpful in getting sweet treats. But not like I’ve ever used one. Not much food in my kitchen—unless you like eating metal.”

“Great,” said Karkat sarcastically. “My assistant is _incompetent_ on _top_ of being a total nook-licking douchebag.”

“Ooh, assistant?” Strider waggled his brows. “Do I get a cute apron? Cause, shit, I don’t do cute. Where’s your apron anyway? You could totally pull off _Kiss The Short Grumpy Nubby Cook_ pretty well I think.”

“Go choke on a bulge,” Karkat grouched, grudgingly walking over to the mixer and looking at it for a moment. The metal contraption had a silver bowl— _where you probably put the ingredient shit—_ and some sort of… paddle connected to it. He really didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but poured the gooey mess into the bowl anyway.

“Now, what, _cooking master_?” Karkat asked sarcastically, looking pointedly at Strider in all his ‘wisdom’ to figure this out.

“Uh, er, wait,” Strider nodded to himself before reaching over to a black cord and plugging it in the wall. “Got to plug it in. Then we can turn on this bad boy—”

_WHIRL_

Karkat jumped several feet back, horrified to find this fucking contraption was even _louder_ and dangerous looking than the blender. What the hell was with wrong with human cooking devices!? Was cooking some sort of survival test on their planet!?

To Karkat’s embarrassment, Strider only laughed, a shit-eating grin on his face as he dug his hands into his god-tier pockets. “Geeze, Karkat, you’re acting like it’s going to come alive and eat you. Yeah, it’s fucking loud, but it’s perfectly safe… I think.”

Karkat inched back to the countertop, peering over the mixer and seeing the butter and sugar mixing together much more efficiently than he had been able to with your wooden spoon. Karkat scowled, glancing at Strider’s ‘innocent expression’ suspiciously before looking away petulantly.

“Whatever,” he said finally, stomping over to a cabinet and pretending to look busy. “If you’re going to be here and be a nuisance, read off the ingredients and the next step so I know what the fuck is supposed to go into here. If it gets ruined, it’s _your fault_.”

Strider snorted and saluted, strolling over to the Book and reading over the sound of the mixer:

**_Ingredients_ **

_2 Sticks of Butter (At Room Temperature; plus more for the pan)_

_3 Cups All-Purpose Flour_

_1 Tablespoon Baking Powder_

_½ Tablespoon Baking Soda_

_½ Teaspoon Salt_

_1 ¼ Cups Sugar_

_4 Large Eggs (At Room Temperature)_

_1 Tablespoon Vanilla Extract_

_1 ¼ Cups Whole Milk_

Strider raised a brow. “Holy fuck, cooking’s complicated.”

Karkat sneered, a smugness filling him at the fact that _he_ was obvious the superior (not like he wasn’t always, but it was about goddamn time Strider realized it). “What’s that, Strider? Are you saying you can’t handle it?”

The human scoffed. “Hell no. Given that this is obviously a _human_ cooking book, since it has none of your weird bugs and shit, it’s obvious who’s teaching who here. Now, get ready for these lightning fast instructions—”

  1. _Reduce the mixer speed to medium; beat in the Eggs, one at a time and scraping down the bowl as needed. Careful not to splatter._



Strider paused, then grinned suggestively. “You hear that, Karkat?” he purred, the sudden vibration of his words doing strange things to Karkat’s hearing fronds. “Make sure not to _splatter_.”

Karkat’s face flushed before deciding to not dignify that with an answer— _no other reason; fuck you—_ and walked over to the thermal hull. He jerked it open, squinting as he searched the cold container for the fucking _Eggs_ —

“Problem?” asked Strider, still beside the Book before walking over and peering over Karkat’ shoulder “Or did you get lost in the icy tundra that is our resident refrigerator?”

“Shut the fuck up,” answered Karkat automatically, even as he continued to look around. “I’m looking for your dead cluckbeasts.”

Strider seemed to pause, looking in Karkat’s general direction. As always, his shades pissed Karkat the fuck off. He had no fucking idea where the asshole was looking whenever he had them on— _which was all the time_.

“Dead cluckbeasts?” Strider grabbed a white container, the word _‘Eggs’_ in bright yellow once in Karkat’s view— _he knew that_. “Shit, I guess that’s true, but do you have to call them that?”

Karkat sneered, taking the Eggs from Strider’s hands before walking over to the fucking loud mixer— _shit, how long had it been running?_ “What’s wrong? Didn’t take you to be squeamish.”

Strider shrugged. “Whatever man, just call them eggs like a normal person—troll.”

“I’ll call them whatever the fuck I want, bulgemuncher,” taunted Karkat, even as he opened the cartoon and pulled out four Eggs. He raised one above his head before bringing it down quickly, assuming that he would need to break them open—

_CRACK_

“ _Fuck_!” Karkat cursed, staring incredulously at the _gooey_ yellow mess covering his hand. _Why the hell did that happen!?_

Behind him, Strider burst into laughter and Karkat whirled around.

“Think that’s funny, fucker?” whispered Karkat dangerously, hand clenching the remains of shells and yolk on his fingers. “How do you like it _now!_ ”

He _smeared_ his hand over Strider’s shirt, the other stepping back and the _only reason_ that Karkat’s disgusting hand hadn’t landed on his douchebag shades as planned. He growled, swiping up since the _shame globe fondler was still fucking laughing!_

“Karkat, chill, chill!” Strider gasped out, doubling over as his form shook with suppressed laughter. “It was just, shit, how could I _not_ laugh—”

“Shut up!” Karkat’s ears were on fire— _from the burning desire to murder Strider, not embarrassment!_ “Why don’t _you_ fucking do it if you’re some sort of _‘expert_ ’!”

Strider breathed out, almost seeming composed if it wasn’t for the _shit-eating grin still on his face_ , before nodding. “Sure, get ready to get schooled in the fine craft of egg-breaking—without the whole _explosion_ like you got going on. But points for style, bro, really.”

Before Karkat could rip his head off, Strider walked over to the counter where the container of Eggs remained next to the mixer. Karkat wasn’t even sure if he cared if the Butter and Sugar were over-mixed— _everything about this recipe was a disaster_ —and watched Strider pick up one of the vile, round-shaped dead cluckbeasts. He waiting, _fully_ expecting him to fuck up—

_Crack_

Karkat’s ear twitched, his eyes widening as he watched Strider crack the Egg shell in half— _“Shit,_ shell _,”—_ before pouring the gooey mess into the mixer—sans the shell. _What the absolute fuck?_

“How’d you do that?” asked Karkat, more pissed off than ever. “What the fuck did you do differently?”

Strider shrugged, gesturing Karkat over with his head. When Karkat grudgingly walked over, Strider grabbed one of the Eggs, placed it into Karkat’s right hand, guided it over to the counter— _wait, why was he touching him?—_ before speaking.

“Listen, you were using _way_ too much force before. It’s not like breaking a spine or ripping heads off or whatever you strife-obsessed trolls do in your free time.” Strider gestured to the remains of the shell of the first unfortunate Egg on the counter. “See? It’s not really thick, so I think it’s more of a _tap_ than anything.”

“Sure, whatever,” mumbled Karkat, hyper aware of Strider’s hand on his slowly guiding him up before bringing it down to the countertop.

_Crack_

Karkat’s eyes widened, feeling a strange sense of… success as the Egg cracked open, just enough for Karkat to see the yellow yolk inside. He jerked his hand away from Strider’s— _no reason, just didn’t want the Egg to spill—_ and carefully picked the shell away from the top before pouring it into the mixer.

It swirled with the rest of the ingredients, making the mixture turn slightly more yellow. Karkat’s face lit up, _finally_ feeling like he was getting somewhere. He didn’t notice Strider staring at him, too eager to grab the other two Eggs and, mimicking his previous actions carefully, _cracked_ them open and added them to the mixer.

Karkat grinned triumphantly, discarding the broken shells into a nearby waste bin— _he found that ‘cleaning as he went’ made the final clean-up a fuck lot easier—_ before turning back around. It was then that he noticed Strider still standing there, staring at him with an… unreadable expression.

The mutant tensed, eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out Strider’s sudden silence. “What the fuck are you staring at, asshole?”

The human seemed to jolt from whatever thoughts he had been having, a grin crossing his face as he simply walked over to the Book to read the next instruction— _leaving Karkat, more certain than ever, that there was a reason only four humans still existed._

Still, he listened as Strider read off the next instruction:

  1. _Whisk the 3 Cups of Flour, the Baking Powder, Baking Soda, and Salt in a bowl._



Easy enough, or at least that was what Karkat thought after retrieving a bowl— _he wondered if there was just an infinite number of them hiding wherever the fuck they came from—_ and found to be _fucking wrong_ when he pulled out two near identical containers filled with white powder. It took a double take for him to figure out which was which. And, even then, opening the caps— _nose wrinkling at the sudden **powdery** smell—_ didn’t help anything because they literally looked _identical_.

“Why the fuck do they look the same?” asked Karkat, disgusted by the near _exact_ resemblance between the Baking Powder and the Baking Soda as he handed Strider the Flour and the necessary measuring cups, fully expecting him to be competent enough to do that as Karkat figured out this conundrum. Looking at the book didn’t help, actually horrifying him when he read the info blurb for the latter:

**_Baking Soda_ **

_Sodium bicarbonate used in cooking, for cleaning, or in toothpaste._

“Why the ever-loving fuck is something used for cleaning in food?” exclaimed Karkat, eyeing the Baking Soda with a wary expression. If the Book was trying fucking _poison them—_

“Huh, didn’t know that.” Strider paused, before shrugging and resuming his task of measuring out the Flour and pouring it in; seemingly fine with the wordless instruction. “Well, even if it is, it’s called _Baking Soda_ —so it probably won’t kill us if we used it.”

Karkat glared, nose scrunching even as he grudgingly measured out the necessary amount and dumping it into the separate metal bowl. “You’re trying it first,” he said petulantly, unwilling to concede anything.

Strider snorted. “Shit, you promise? Don’t get mad if I eat it all.”

“Do that and I’ll be cracking _your head_ like an egg.”

Strider snickered. “Good one. Didn’t know you liked cooking puns.”

Karkat’s eyes widened in horror. “Wait, no—”

“What’s wrong, Karkitty?” asked Strider, cocking his head. “Or maybe _Kitkat_ is more appropriate? That’s a kind of candy from my planet—seems appropriate given the whole situation. Or should I say _snack-uation_.”

“Strider, no, don’t say another—”

“We’re really breezing through this, aren’t we?” said Strider suddenly, gesturing to the combining ingredients.

Karkat’s eyes narrowed, wondering about the sudden change of subject. “…Yes, we are,” he conceded, privately admitting that things were easier with Strider helping out—

Strider grinned, sending a shiver down Karkat’s spine. He knew that _smile_ —

“Then I guess we can call it _fast food_.” Strider laughed.

The _fucker_.

Karkat pointed at the door. “Get out.”

The Hero of Time pouted. “Aw, dude, don’t be like that! Here, should I call a truce? I’ll extend the olive _brunch_ here—"

“Okay!” said Karkat loudly, wishing more than ever to _deafen his hearing fronds,_ as he looked at the next step in the Book, having added all the ‘dry ingredients’ to one bowl. “What the fuck are the last steps?”

  1. _Add in Vanilla to the mixture before beating in the Flour and Milk. Alternate between them, beginning and ending with Flour, until just smooth._


  1. _After that, divide the batter between the prepared pans and cook from 30 to 35 minutes until a golden brown._



“Strider, get the milk. I’ll add the Flour,” Karkat grabbed the bowl, eager to finish this as he poured in what was probably a cup of the white powder—

“Wait, no, _Karkat—_ ”

_FWOOF_

_Flour_ collided with the spinning blades, spitting back into Karkat’s face instead of mixing properly. He coughed, waving the sudden dust cloud away as he quickly pushed the button in a random direction—glad that the direction was apparently _Off_ as he heard the mixing of metal stop.

Strider laughed beside him. “Shit, you look like a ghost. Going to haunt all the kiddies who misbehave? Or, wait, you’re the tooth fairy, aren’t you?  Going to be all, _‘I’m not giving you a fucking dollar, you see those cavities—_ ”

“Do you _ever_ stop talking?” grouched Karkat, flushed as he wiped the dust from his face as he resisted the _urge_ to pick up the mixer and _smash it_. “Why don’t you fucking do it? I think I’m about done with this fucking recipe.”

Strider frowned. “Wait, really? No, shit, here, I’ll show you. I’m pretty sure that you’re supposed to just add it slower or something—”

Karkat watched Strider warily as he slowly added the Flour and Milk, wondering what he was playing at. Why he was being so ‘helpful’ instead of mocking Karkat’s _many_ mistakes in the past few minutes.

It was… fucking confusing.

Given their past, he was right to be suspicious. They hadn’t started off on a good note in the least, Strider being the most go most goddamned confusing and _irritating_ human— _and Karkat knew John, so that was saying something—_ to ever exist with his fucking shades— _seriously, who the hell wore those indoors? He’d be have convinced the asshole was doing it to ‘match’ Terezi or some shit if Strider hadn’t arrived wearing them—_ and confounding ‘references’ and ‘raps.’ Karkat’s head spun when he even _tried_ to understand the word bile that came from the other’s mouth.

Karkat would admit that things were… less tense between them ever since Terezi had rejected them both as matesprits— _and, strangely enough, Karkat almost pitied the look on Dave’s face when she laid down the law—_ but, while their every moment wasn’t filled with non-stop arguing, it was still… _weird_.

Not in the typical sense, but that, after that main conflict ended, Karkat had expected, well, for the human to basically _disappear_ from his life. Not that he expected him to jump from the fucking meteor in a fit of romantic tragedy— _Strider wouldn’t know romance if it stabbed him through the gastric pouch—_ but he had expected his ‘interaction’ with the red-obsessed human to end. Or, at the very least, for it to become even _more_ sour.

But, no. In fact, Karkat had started seeing even _more_ of the idiot godtier. He knew that it had to be the Universe fucking with him— _he glanced at the Book and decided, yes, the Universe hated him—_ because he certainly didn’t see as much of John, Rose, or Jade. And John made sure to make a nuisance of himself whenever possible— _not to mention those quadrants with Vriska and Terezi that he was fucking stomping all over like the oblivious airheaded fucker he was—_ while Rose was Kanaya’s matesprit, so you would _think_ that Karkat would see more of _them_ than Strider.

But, _no_.

 _Strider_ was the one who kept popping up in his life for whatever reason.

“Yo, Karkat?” Karkat jolted from his thoughts, paling when he realized that Strider had finished adding the Flour and Milk— _was it supposed to look clumpy like that? What the fuck, Strider had no fucking clue what he was doing—_ and was looking right at him.

Strider grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “I know that I’m sick-nasty awesome and you can’t handle the bodaciousness of my hot bod, but, keep staring, and I think your eyes might fall out. Or whatever the fuck you guys call them? Wait, let me guess, iris containers? Or, no—”

_What the fuck had Karkat done to deserve this fate? If it was culling someone important in a past life… Karkat was almost sorry—whoever the fuck it had been probably deserved it._

“Shut the fuck up,” said Karkat calmly, needing only one response to the filth that spouted from Strider’s mouth on a regular basis. In fact, he was _almost_ getting used to it. _…wait, what? No, how could he get ‘used’ to anything about this bulgemunching idiot?_ “I was just wondering if you knew how fucking stupid you sound every time you open your mouth—but the fact you keep on opening shows that, no, you fucking _don’t_. 

Strider shrugged. “Man, you’re so unclassed in irony that you don’t even _know_ how amazing the words I spout are. Seriously, I need to school you in the levels of awesome and Strider-know-how that you don’t even _know_ about.”

“I’d rather slam my head repeatedly in the thermal hull,” deadpanned Karkat before reaching over to turn the mixer back on. “Just turn it fucking on already—”

_ZZZOOOOMMM_

His finger slipped, pushing the switch controlling the speed of the mixer to the _Highest Setting_. Cake batter _splattered_ out of the mixer onto the lone occupants of the meal block as the metal blades mixed _out of control_ —

 _“Fuck_ —”

Karkat reached over, wincing as cake hit the corner of his eye, frantically pressing the switch back to the _Off_ position. But, as it turned off, Karkat realized the damage was already done.

The troll grimaced, feeling splatters of flour and cake batter against his face and neck, cringing when he realized that it was likely on his shirt, the walls, the ground and—

He glanced over to the other occupant of the meal block. 

_—On Strider._

Karkat bit his lip, a quick examination revealing cake batter covering Strider’s god-tier outfit and face both. He… felt _guilty_ for the first time since Strider had arrived, when he had been in the middle of failing at the second step of the recipe. It… it wasn’t like he was _purposely_ trying to mess this up— _and why was he even being given the chance to screw up in more things? It was obvious that Book had fucked up for whatever reason when it came to him—_ but, whenever Strider was around, it seemed that nothing went right.

_No, it was when Karkat was ever around, that nothing went right._

“Listen,” began Karkat, fear— _worry—_ buildling inside of him when he didn’t hear Strider speak for another moment. “Shit, are you okay? I’m… I’m sor—”

Karkat paused as Strider lifted a hand up, touching the cake batter on his shades before wiping it off with a single finger. To Karkat’s horror, he placed it in his mouth, making an appreciative _hum_. “Shit, that’s good. This is just vanilla, right? You must have put some drugs or a shitload of sugar in there when I wasn’t looking, cause this shit is—”

“What the fuck? Why aren’t you screaming at me right now?” blurted out Karkat, unable to comprehend Strider’s calmness. “Fuck, Strider! I thought you’d jump on a chance to rub failure in my face!”

“It _was_ an epic failure,” agreed Strider sagely. “But, that’s probably part my fault cause god knows I didn’t know how to add that shit either. Besides, isn’t ‘failure the predecessor to success if you’re stubborn enough’ or something?”

The blonde snorted at the stunned expression on Karkat’s face. “Geeze, man, you keep acting like I’m about to jump out and attack you.” Strider frowned. “It’s not like I came here to make fun of you or shit like that.”

Karkat froze. This was certainly news to him. “You… didn’t?”

Strider tilted his head, a brow raising even as his body visibly tensed. “What?” he asked with a casualness that couldn’t be real, but why he would lie, Karkat didn’t know. “You… thought I that I did? I mean, you’re fun to tease, but, shit, anyone can tell you not to take what I say _seriously_.”

Strider stared at him, as if trying to get him to understanding something. Even without seeing his eyes, the gaze was too much and Karkat glanced down, suddenly feeling bashful for whatever fucking reason. “Not like you take anything seriously, bulgelicker,” he mumbled before looking back at him. “…but thanks.”

The troll wasn’t sure what he was thanking the other for. For offering to help. For keeping him _somewhat_ reasonable company. For _not getting mad at the mutant fuck-up Karkat knew he was—_

Strider grinned. “Any time, Kitkat,” he teased, before grimacing as he raised a hand up to his shades. “Shit, I can barely see anything through this lens. I thought I _told_ you not to splatter—”

Karkat flushed, reaching out before he could stop himself. “Shut the fuck up. Here, let me clean that—”

Strider tensed, backing away before Karkat could grab his shades. “Wait, no, it’s fine—”

Karkat glared, stepping forward again. “What the fuck is up with you now?” he asked, trying to ignore the guilty feelings still remaining—using them to strengthen his resolve to try and fix this situation as much as he could; starting with Strider’s dumbfuck shades. “Just give them here, I’ll wash them off—”

“Listen, no, I—”

“What the fuck is wrong—”

Strider stepped back, but his stare down with Karkat made him fail to notice the cake batter splatter on the floor beneath his foot until it was too late. He _slipped_ arms flailing as he fell backwards towards the ground—

Karkat panicked, grabbing Strider’s shirt but slipping as _well_ —

_THUMP_

Karkat winced, feeling his knees hit the unforgiving cold stone of the meal block. “Fuck,” he cursed, clenching his hands before realizing his position, a certain _warmth form_ beneath him and making him open his eyes.

He froze.

He… He was _straddling_ Strider, pinning him to the ground even as he stared into startling red eyes. Oh, shit, he had to get off, what was he doing, he—

 _Wait_ … _red?_

It took a moment for Karkat to realize that he must have knocked the formerly mentioned shades off during their descent because there was _nothing_ concealing Strider’s face. For once, it was plain, open, revealing Dave’s frozen expression as he stared up at Karkat.

Karkat couldn’t look away, couldn’t look away from those _eyes._ They were _red._ What… the _fuck_? How was this possible? He’d seen all the other humans’ eyes, but none of them had _that color_. The color that Karkat _knew_ his would look like in a few sweeps—

“…mind getting off?”

Karkat blinked, his trance breaking when he realized that those red eyes were looking away from him, the expression on Strider’s face more closed off than Karkat have ever seen before.

A chill went up his spine even as he scrambled off the other, apologies at the tip of his tongue but somehow unable to force them out. He wasn’t sure what he would be apologizing for this time. For turning on the mixer and causing the cake splatters in the first place? For causing Strider to fall over? For knocking off his shades and revealing those _red_ eyes that Strider obviously didn’t want _anyone_ to see—

Karkat jolted, searching the floor and reaching for the shades still on the ground when a pale hand intercepted him, snatching the eyewear before Karkat could. The troll swallowed, feeling more nervous and like a piece of shit than ever. _Why the fuck did he feel nervous? Sure, he had fucked up, as always, but… but Strider had just **forgiven** about the mixer—_

Strider quickly placed the shades back on his face— _Karkat noticed he didn’t bother cleaning them, just shoved them back on—_ before loking away with an unreadable expression.

A moment passed.

“…so this was fun,” said Strider finally, voice toneless. “I think I’ll just go—”

“Wait, why?” asked Karkat, completely off-balance from everything happening. From Strider’s attitude to those _eyes—_ “Is it because of your eyes—”

Strider snorted, still not looking at Karkat fully. “What?” he intoned emotionlessly. “Thrown off by their rad-awesomeness? Yeah, they’re one of a fucking kind, I know. Great for Halloween and blinding me in the sunlight, but I suppose they’re not good for anything fucking else—”

“Wait, shut up!” Karkat’s brow furrowed. “What are you saying? You… think I’m fucking bothered by them or something?”

_To be honest, he kind of was, but not for the reasons Strider was probably thinking._

Strider seemed to glare. “That’s generally what you call fucking staring at someone while doing your best impression of a gaping fish. Or, wait, was that the next ingredient? A side order of fish _flying the fuck out of—_ ”

“They’re the same as mine!”

Both Karkat and Strider froze at the same time, the former unable to believe that he had actually said that. Apparently, Strider was thinking the same, speaking slowly, as if to a wriggler.

“…no, I’m not sure if you’ve looked in a mirror lately, but yours are _gray_ ,” he emphasized the word. “Or is it that trolls are colorblind? Or, wait, shit, that’s not possible since you’re all obsessed with your hemospectrum bullshit—”

Despite himself, Karkat huffed, unable to _believe_ what a fucking moron Strider. “When a troll goes through their adult molt,” he said with the patience of someone who had explained this exact concept _a fucking million times._ “Their eyes change to match their _blood color_.”

Strider’s eyes furrowed. “And that relates to my freaky red martian eyes how…?”

 _What the fuck was a martian?_ “Be _cause_ ,” stressed Karkat before swallowing. “I’m… you fuckers already know that I’m a mutant, that I’m _off_ the spectrum with my blood color.” He gestured sloppily at Strider’s shades. “So, if I fucking survive to nine sweeps, my eyes will… they’ll _match yours_.”

Karkat swallowed, waiting, but Strider didn’t respond, seemingly struck dumb by the revelation. The troll wondered how the fuck he got into these dumbfuck situations—with equally dumb fuck participants.

He turned around, hearing fronds alit with embarrassment as he gesticulated randomly. “So, yeah! Is that plain enough for you, nooklicker? I didn’t know your human eyes came in that color, in m-my color, so it was just a surprise. Don’t get any weird ideas—”

Karkat continued to ramble, walking back to the mixer— _careful to dodge the splatters of cake batter on the floor; there was no fucking way he was going to have a repeat of what just happened—_ and placing his hands on the counter, refusing to look Strider’s way. He didn’t fail to notice that Strider still hadn’t spoken.

“—so I’m going to finish this,” Karkat waved towards the mixer. “You going to fucking help or not?”

He tensed, fully expecting to hear Strider walk out—

“…sure.”

Karkat relaxed, feeling far too relieved as Strider walked over to stand by him. The troll didn’t comment on the batter that had mysteriously been wiped off of his shades.

Strider grinned, though it wasn’t as relaxed as before. “I’d be a fucking horrible teacher if I just let my shouty student be at lost without me, wouldn’t I?”

Karkat snorted, rolling his eyes, inexpiably torn between ease at the… conversation being resolved and the remaining rigidity from the fuck-up. “Shut up, _I’m_ the leader here. You’re just the dumbfuck assistant who’s going to be cleaning this mess while I enjoy a slice of whatever the fuck this cake is.”

Strider snorted, but seemed calm as Karkat carefully turned the mixer on again.

“Hey, Karkat?”

 _“_ …what _?”_

“What do you call cheese that isn’t yours?”

 _“_ Strider, _I fucking **swear** —”_

“— _Nacho cheese!_ ”

o0o0o

Karkat stared moodily at the rising cakes in the oven, preferring to mope on the table instead of cleaning the mess of broken eggshells and cake batter on the countertops—not to mention the numerous dirty dishes.

Just when Karkat had thought it was… fine… Strider had _left_. After that last pun, it had fallen quiet between them, a sort of stifling, awkward silence that Karkat couldn’t figure how to break— _or even why he would want to; when did he start caring about how Strider felt?—_ and remained until they placed both pans into the oven. The only thing he had been able to tell about Strider was that the human had been thinking about something… _not that Karkat had any fucking clue what that was._

And then the bullshit that had happened next. Karkat wasn’t even sure what had happened, only remembering that he had been wiping vanilla cake batter from his face and licking it off his thumb— _what? Strider had done the same thing!—_ when Strider had suddenly tensed and started cagey spouting bullshit:

_“So, I… uh, think you have a handle on this. I’m going to er, com—I mean **go** , so uh…leave me a piece of cake, alright?”_

That had been the last thing Karkat had heard before Strider had flashstepped the _fuck_ out of there, obviously not fine no matter what he had said. It was quite possible that he had just wanted to clean the dried cake batter from his god-tier outfit, but Karkat wasn’t hatched yesterday and _knew_ that the human had just been making an excuse.

He cursed, banging his head against the table. It was obvious that Strider hadn’t forgiven Karkat for his fuck-up. While he couldn’t understand Strider’s problem with his eyes— _though… the way he was alluding to his eyes being freaky reminded him of something; of the voice that Karkat heard every time he worried if someone would see his blood color—_ he knew that he had no right to intrude like that.

 _Shit_ , and Karkat had thought that those shades was just Strider acting like a douche? Well, Strider was always an asshole, but Karkat knew that he should have _seen_ that there was something _more_ than that…

 _Grubfucking_ _dammit_! Why did he _always_ have to ruin everything? And the thing with Strider was that he didn’t even know what he had fucking _ruined!_

Fists clenched, Karkat glanced at the Book, eyeing the beginning definition that he had concealed from Strider when he had first come in. He hadn’t needed the other to get any ideas and… it was obvious that, whatever the snarky-ass Book had been planning when it randomly opened for Karkat when he had walked into the meal block an hour ago, it had _failed_ :

**_Vanilla Beginnings Cake_ **

_One of the most basic types of cake, it’s a perfect start to become more familiar with the art of cooking desserts without much chance for failure._

_It’s also a perfect treat to share with budding or changing relationships and feelings_ _;)_

He scowled, slamming the book shut; _feeling only slightly bereft as he did._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As promised, here is that first taste of the budding relationship between Karkat and Dave. It technically could have waited for a while, but I couldn’t wait to get Dave in here to place his two cents. Also the fact that he’s a human would make it so that, while not an expert at cooking in any way shape or form, he is at least familiar with the stuff. Also, it wasn’t John because he and Karkat are completely platonic and John hates cake. Lol. 
> 
> Now, this chapter might seem that this was a failure on the Dave/Karkat front, but it's actually a necessary step. A good hint towards the progression of these relationships is whether or not the Book will close. If it closes, it means that the problem at hand that the food was supposed to help/solve has been accomplished. 
> 
> Karkat might think this non-existent relationship with Strider has returned to square one, or even backtracked, but they actually made a lot of good progress here—a simple and sweet beginning that, if you try to taste for a more complex flavor, will really come up with nothing. The two of them really are like cake--a lot of things (like raw eggs, flour, salt) that you think will never go together, but requires you to trust in the sweet end result. 
> 
> And that’s the Magic of Cooking—creating wonderful things greater than the sum of their parts! And, in this case, Karkat needs to start seeing that, no matter how he feels about his ‘many defects and issues,’ they still come together in the end to make something great. 
> 
> What do you think? Please leave a Comment and Kudos!


	4. Honey Lemon Bars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sollux and Eridan are destroying the meteor with their fucking issues. Karkat's ALMOST desperate enough to go to the Book to see what it can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on this chapter, I tried to add in Eridan and Sollux’s writing quirks but it became so bloody intelligible (ethpethially Thollux’th thtuff) that I gave up. If anyone really wants me to add them in, I’ll go back and, er, try to make it work. But, other than that, please try to enjoy my favorite kismesis pair! 
> 
> As you noticed in the Tags, I have marked Karkat as not only being Pale towards everyone but also being ASHEN. Now, I know the typical definition of an Ashen Romance is when two trolls are locked in a feud and another intervenes to become their Auspistice; the auspistice mediating between the two and preventing the start of a fully caliginous rivalry. 
> 
> However, I feel that the whole ‘giving relationship advice/helping stabilize quadrants’ idea should under Ashen as well and, as a result, Karkat in this fic. It is confirmed that auspitices were needed in the first place due to the influx of caliginous relationships, making me believe that Red Romance was overlooked since conflicts in them were generally not as violent. 
> 
> Given there are only twelve trolls left in existence, Karkat needs to—is forced—to deal with all non-stable quadrant issues—no matter the quadrant. And the reason why I made him also Ashen Leader, since he’s definitely doing a lot of that. 
> 
> TAGS: Sollux/Eridan; Honey Lemon Bars; GET A ROOM YOU TWO; No, Don’t Destroy That Room!; Karkat Has Had ENOUGH Of Everyone’s Shit; Strider/Vanilla Beginnings Cake Trauma; Book Will Not Be Ignored; Tricky Recipe Is Tricky; Some Resolution; Creepy Book Is Creepy
> 
> EDIT: NOW WITH FANART!!!! The wonderful VioletMoon123 made this: https://moonsmittenvioletta.tumblr.com/image/171467755679 which is also now in the chapter. It's so great!!!

                                                                                   

_“Just try it **peasant** \--” _

_“Fuck. You--”_

_CRASH_

Karkat jolted as he heard a _less than fucking reasonable crash_ from down the hallway, picking up his pace towards the direction the disturbance.

For _fuck’s_ sake! He had heard the commotion all the way from where he had been reading his _respiteblock_! He had almost ignored it— _and seriously contemplated suffocating himself—_ before feeling the ‘buzz’ in the air. He had known then that it was yet _another_ conflict between Sollux and Eridan— _maybe with Vriska or Feferi thrown in; why the fuck not—_ that would likely destroy the meteor if unchecked. So, he had fucking hoofbeasted it up as their Supreme Leader and came out to investigate…

_BANG_

Karkat was sure he would regret it.

The _cursing_ and _banging_ became louder as he approached, coming to a crux as he turned at the fork of the hallway and entered one of the many common blocks.

Which looked like a fucking _warzone_.

“What,” asked Karkat, deathly quiet, and making the two trolls before him stop in their tracks before they could move to cull each other again, “ _the fuck_ is up with you two _now_?”

Sollux and Eridan-- _because who the fuck else would it be causing red and blue sparks and random bursts of ‘magic’--_ stood in the midst of a waking _disaster_ of broken furniture, stuffing remains, and destroyed bits of technology-- _he was particularly pissed at the last one; that shit cost a lot of grist to make!_

“Sollux, put that fucking couch down before I feed you to whatever the fuck is in the basement. This is _not_ a proper kissemsitude,” said Karkat, for the fucking _billionth_ time, rubbing at the spot between his eyes in an effort to not let them just kill each other. “Black-flirt all you want—”

“We’re _not_ black-flirting,” spat out Sollux-- _Karkat did not fail to notice Eridan’s pained expression in response—_ while lowering the couch with his psionics. “Like I’d ever be fucking _interested_ in—”

“Not how you were flipping acting a minute ago!” shouted Eridan, gripping the wand in his right hand like a petulant wriggler. He even looked one second away from stomping his feet— _as if that shit could get Sollux to somehow pay attention._

Sollux whirled around from where he had been facing Karkat, the couch _crashing_ to the ground with his loss of concentration. He obviously didn’t care— _even though Karkat fucking did; the couch!_

“You fucking _attacked_ me!” growled Sollux, lisp rougher than ever. “It’s not black-flirting to avoid making a _smear on the ground—_ ”

“So,” said Eridan with a superior tone, standing taller with his arms crossed. “You acknowledge that I would beat you in a proper fight—”

“ _Fuck_ no. When I said smear, I meant it’d be _violet—_ ”

“Enough,” interrupted Karkat, a migraine already forming, looking up at the ceiling and wondering what he had done to deserve this bullshit. _Probably for being born as a mutant troll, as always._ “Where the fuck is Kanaya? Isn’t she your Ashen Quadrant for this shit, Eridan?”

Before Eridan could answer, Sollux interrupted.

 “She’s his Ashen for _Vriska_ ,” he spat, red and blue sparking dangerously at the corner of his eyes. “Why the fuck would _we_ need one?”

Without saying another word, Sollux stormed off, red and blue psionics sparking around his head as he left a rather pitiful looking Eridan— _and it was pitiful, the way that he was standing with his hand clenched around his wand as if he thought sending one more blast of magic at Sollux’s head would fix anything about this—_ standing behind him.

Karkat sighed— _why the fuck was he dealing with this?—_ and glared at Eridan. “You grubfucking attacked him?”

Eridan looked towards the far wall, nose raised petulantly.

His silence was telling enough and Karkat sighed, weary. “You know that’s never going to fucking work with him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Eridan, still looking away at what appears to be a television lodged half-way through the wall— _what the fuck? Karkat wasn’t fixing that shit._

“Don’t fucking try that with me.” Karkat groaned, wondering if he was the only one on this fucking meteor who understood anything.

“You know he thinks that you’re just attacking him because he’s Feferi’s matesprit,” said Karkat instead. “And, why shouldn’t he? You keep fucking around with Vriska and making this shit a lot more difficult than it has to be.”

“He’s… not interested,” said Eridan, vulnerability finally showing through and hunching over himself. “And… Vriska is. You’re right, I should just stop this nonsense. Don’t know why I ever bothered with that impossible bee-obsessed peasant to begin with.”

“No, that’s not—”

_SHATTER_

Karkat groaned, ears twitching when he heard the sound of something breaking in the hallway-- _Sollux_. “You know what? We’ll talk more later. Don’t doing anything stupid, bulgelicker.”

Karkat gave him a pointed look. “ _Talk_ to Feferi. You know her? Your _actual_ fucking moirail?”

Eridan said nothing, seeming content to stare at the fucked-up television in the wall. Karkat resisted the urge to throw his hands in the air and scream, turning away from the sulking seadweller to follow the more dangerous threat at the moment.

He hoped to _fuck_ that Eridan actually talked to Feferi, but he _knew_ that he wouldn’t. For whatever grubfucking reason, Eridan had a ‘problem’ with talking with Feferi— _which made no nooklicking sense since that was **literally** what moirails were for! _ If Karkat were to guess what was going through the addled seadweller’s thinkpan, he would guess it had to do with obsession at appearing ‘ _mighty and powerful’_ and ‘ _not believing that_ _trolls like he and Feferi should show weakness’_ or some shit.

It was ironic since Eridan was probably the fucking emotionally _weakest_ in the whole goddamn meteor— _and Karkat was including the humans; which made it really fucking sad—_ and went to complain to Karkat _all the time_. And the only reason that he talked to Karkat, the troll knew, was because Karkat ‘didn’t count’ or whatever as showing weakness. Probably because he was mutant trash, but, whatever the reason, they had conversed about relationship bullshit for countless sweeps. As a result, Karkat knew that Eridan brought all his emotional issues to him rather than Feferi, which was _definitely_ a problem. 

But this thing with Sollux… it was different. It was unusual because, for the first time, Eridan _didn’t_ want to talk to Karkat about it. For some bulgechafing reason, he was ‘determined’ to figure it out on his own! Karkat would have been ecstatic at Eridan finally stepping up— _if he didn’t keep fucking screwing it up every time!_ And, as a result, he was further making a mess out of all his quadrants!

Of course, it wasn’t like the other members of this mess were ‘innocent’ either—

_SPARK_

Karkat grit his teeth and picked up his pace, glancing up at the ceiling where yet _another_ hallway light had _randomly_ exploded.

_Random his ass_.

Karkat knew _exactly_ the cause of the ‘sudden electrical difficulties,’ and he _fully_ intended to _destroy his two-obsessed ass._

He turned another hallway— _a… very familiar one—_ and saw Sollux turning the corner into a room up ahead.

Karkat froze, registering the room just as another ceiling light _shattered_ , raining sparks upon him. He groaned, rubbing a hand to his face. It wasn’t just the fact that all the lights in the hallway would somehow need to be fucking replaced and the glass swept up, but the room that Sollux had entered…

_The meal block_.

It wasn’t like Karkat had been… avoiding the meal block— _or the fucking possessed Book—_ ever since that… incident with Da-- _Strider_.

It was just that, once the cake had been made and left in the thermal hull-- _and eaten in less than a day; greedy, thieving assholes--_ Karkat really didn’t see any reason to return. After all, the ‘Vanilla Beginnings Cake’ had been a verifiable disaster and led to whatever shit had gone down with Strider—why the _fuck_ would he want to risk the Book leading to some other mess? _Literally._

Karkat…  would admit that he missed making his Blended Apple Tea, as well as felt fucking paranoid that someone would find where he stuffed the Book into a cabinet, but he thought it to best to stop whatever the fuck had been starting. He wasn’t even sure why he had started this ‘cooking’ bullshit in the first place.

Honestly, messing with something that was obviously sentient and probably sent by some sort of interdimensional demon with infinite supplies and unknown reasoning? It was _bulgelicking_ stupid, that was what it was!

His avoidance, of course, had _nothing_ to do with the incident with Strider. Especially not in how Da— _Strider_ acting strangely around him the last few days, awkward and avoidant. And, _especially_ not how, every time Karkat thought about returning to the meal block, he thought about _being close, so close,_ and _Strider leaving_ and _how the fuck had Karkat messed up now_ and _it was all the Book’s fucking **fault** —_

...No, it had nothing to do with any of that.

_SPARK_

Another light broke above Karkat and he narrowly dodged the glass, scowling as he saw remnants of blue and red sparks from it. He just _knew_ that the meal block was torn to shreds by now.

He sighed, mentally preparing himself. Regardless of what had happened last time, Karkat knew that he had to stop Sollux now or else they might not _have_ a meal block for Karkat to have awkward and blood-pusher stabbing encounters in the future.

And, even if he had a problem with the fucking place, he knew that Kanaya had been making Rose that Detox Grape Tea every day. Even if Karkat never stepped foot in there again, he knew that Kanaya _definitely_ needed the place intact. He knew that it had to be going well because Rose was less amusing and more of her psychologically creepy self and Kanaya had been looking happier than ever and…

_Fuck it._

Karkat sighed, walking the rest of the distance down the hallway and into the meal block.

As expected— _even if it was expected, it was fucking alarming—_ the kitchen was covered in various shades of red and blue as Sollux _ripped_ open the door of the thermal hull, seeming to search for something but without much luck.

“Hey, dumbfuck,” Karkat called out, more than a bit irritated when he only got a _grunt_ in return. _Fucking asshole._ “I swear, if you destroy the meal block, _you_ are going to be the one repairing it—”

The light show dimmed as Sollux slammed the thermal hull closed, a bottle of _Faygo_ gripped in his hands. Seeing that _shit_ in Sollux’s grip made Karkat know that this was serious.

He sighed, walking over to the table and sitting down with one hand balanced under his chin. This was inevitably going to be a loud, destructive, conversation. “Alright, lay it on me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, KK,” said Sollux, tonelessly. His grip tightening around the bottle betrayed his true feelings. “You fucking know how Eridan is. He just starts shit _whenever_ he wants and thinks I’m just going to _take it—_ "  

“He _doesn’t_ want you to just take it,” pointed out Karkat, glancing over to the rattling cabinets before back at the enraged yellowblood. “That’s the fucking point of a kismesistude.”

Sollux _slammed_ his hands down on the table, eyes flashing. _All_ the cabinets doors opened and pots and pans fell out, _rattling_ as they hit the floor. Karkat didn’t even flinch.

“Don’t fucking _call_ it that!” Sollux protested. “That’s not what’s fucking happening here!”

Karkat glowered. He had had just about _enough_. “Really?” he sneered, eyes narrowing. “You think I’m fucking _blind_ to you two? It’s fucking obvious to _everyone_ on this grubforsaken rock that you two are black-flirting!”

Sollux growled. “Eridan already has a kismesis—”

“You know as well as I do that Vriska might want it, but Eridan sure as _fuck_ doesn’t,” interrupted Karkat. “That’s the reason she keeps messing with you too! Cause she’s _scared_ about the fact she won’t be able to fulfill her Ancestor-copying bullshit if you and Eridan actually pulled your heads out of your waste chutes!”

Sollux sneered, about to speak, but Karkat wasn’t going to let him.

Karkat started listing things off on his fingers. “You can’t ignore the other no matter what you do, are constantly challenging each other in _every little thing,_ and, while you might not admit it, it’s not just platonic hate—it’s because you actually _respect_ each other and want to improve the other!”

He slammed his hands against the table, feeling it rattle beneath his fingers. “What fucking part of that is not a textbook Black Romance!? You can lie to whoever the fuck you want, Sollux, but you’re more stupid than a _wiggler_ if you think you can fucking fool _me_.”

Their eyes locked, neither side willing to back down.

A few moments passed and Sollux finally looked away, kicking something metal— _a strainer, one of the things that had fallen from before—_ away before sitting down with a _hmph_.

Karkat almost sighed in relief. Apparently, Sollux was finally willing to actually _talk_ instead of continuing his wriggler tantrum—

“I’m not going to talk about it.”

—or _not_.

Karkat rolled his eyes, grumbling beneath his breath about stubborn, dumbfuck trolls before something on the ground caught his eye.

Particularly, something _yellow mixed with violet._  

Inwardly, he groaned, wondering if he could just skip this—

No suck fucking luck because Sollux had caught him staring at the ground and had looked down too.

Before Karkat knew it, the _fucking demon possessed_ _Book_ was rising into the air— _of course it had fallen out when Sollux had been throwing his tantrum; of course—_ and placed on the table, the bright yellow and violet swirled pages displaying themselves proudly.

“This… is that stupid book you were carrying around,” said Sollux, seemingly slightly calmer than before, likely because he had something new to puzzle out. “It’s a mealbook? Or, whatever the fuck the humans call it.”

Karkat reached over, trying to pull the Book towards him but, unsurprisingly, found it to be stuck to the table— _stuck to that recipe page, more like it_.

Sollux noticed this as well, trying to lift the Book with his psionics before finding out that he couldn’t. “What the fuck--”

“Listen,” interrupted Karkat, not wanting to go into the shit with the Book again. It was one thing to talk to Kanaya about it who, while worried for his sanity, was willing to believe him with a few words. It was an entirely _different_ thing to talk to _Sollux_ about the Book. While he didn’t think Sollux would call him a liar, he would probably be fucking skeptical at first before _laughing_ at Karkat’s plight like the _fucker_ he was. “Are you hungry?”

Sollux blinked, seemingly surprised by Karkat’s change of topic.

Karkat would be surprised himself if he didn’t know from months of trying that simply ‘talking’ this shit out wouldn’t work. Or, perhaps, it was the fact that he couldn’t get either of them to stay in the same place for long to talk _to_ before they inevitably stormed away and destroyed more of the stupid meteor. Perhaps… a different approach was needed.

He… still didn’t understand what the Book was, or what It wanted— _or why things had gone wrong with Strider—_ but he knew full well that it would stay stuck to the table until whatever recipe it wanted was made. And he’d rather as few people knew about it’s stupid existence as possible, so…

“Look,” said Karkat, staring at Sollux. “I know that this shit with Eridan is complicated and you probably think I have no fucking business interfering, and you’re probably right.”

He gestured towards the recipe, the picture of nonchalance and innocence. “So, why don’t we just cook instead? I feel like there’s a fucking hole burning in my gastric sack.”

Sollux raised a brow, obviously suspicious, before shrugging, still tense and irritable. “Whatever, better than alchemizing random shit.”

Karkat snorted. As far as the mutant knew, Sollux hadn’t cooked a day in his life, how the fuck would he know? Nonetheless attempting to cook with _this possessed Book_ giving the grubfucking directions.

Still, Karkat let it go and looked at the recipe, raising a brow as he did.

**_Honey Lemons Bars_**  
_A strong mix of tartness and sourness; only the strongest of tongues can handle this dish without crying out for mercy! Perfect to show up someone in any situation._

Karkat raised a brow. The Book really wasn’t trying to be subtle anymore, was it? He swore it was getting even _more_ of an attitude as time went on. Still, what idiot would actually fall for something that grubfucking obvious—

“Sounds fucking great,” said Sollux suddenly, interrupting Karkat’s thoughts. “Where do we start?”

Karkat looked at him incredulously before rolling his eyes, pointing plainly at the ingredients list. “See these? Open and close all the cabinet doors. They’ll show up eventually.”

**_Ingredients_ **

_1 Cup Butter (softened)_

_½ Cup White Sugar_

_2 Cups All Purpose Flour_

_4 Eggs_

_1 ½ Cups White Sugar_

_¼ Cup All Purpose Flour_

_2 Lemons, Juiced_

_Honey (as needed)_

Sollux gives him a suspicious look— _one that Karkat would have given himself if he didn’t know how fucking weird this meal block was—_ but uses his psionics to close all the previously closed cabinet doors.

At Karkat’s nod, he opened them again. It was obvious that he had only been humoring the shorter troll, because his multi-colored eyes widened as he opened the cabinets, revealing ingredients that hadn’t been there before. “What the _fuck_ —”  
Karkat snorted. “Welcome to my life. The Book is fucking possessed and the meal block has an endless supplies of ingredients—get over it.”

Before Sollux could hiss anything particularly unsavory towards him, Karkat looks over the next two steps, having already suspected the first:

  1. _Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F._
  2. _In a medium bowl, blend together Softened Butter, 2 Cups Flour, and ½ Cup Sugar. Press into the bottom of an ungreased 9x13 inch pan._



Karkat waved a hand towards Sollux as he walked over to the oven to set it to the proper temperature. “Hey, dipshit. The measuring cups and bowls are also in fucking random cabinets—get them.”

“Keep ordering me around and you’re not going to like what happens next,” muttered Sollux, even as he opened the cabinets and, after a moment, levitated out the proper utensils.

Now that he wasn’t freaking out and breaking everything, Karkat considered the fact that the yellow-blooded troll might actually be useful for the preparation part; given the whole psionics thing.

Karkat snorted. “I’m your fucking _leader_ , asshole. You should be honored that I acknowledge you at all.”

Sollux rolled his eyes, though Karkat could tell the other was relaxing by the way his shoulders lowered. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re as humble as you are delusional, KK?”

Karkat walked back to the counter, pleasantly surprised when he saw Sollux using his abilities to measure out the proper amount of Flour— _the hacking-obsessed troll was probably more than used to memorizing random bits of information and having to apply them—_ into a separate bowl.

With that shit already done, Karkat went over to the thermal hull, opening the door and pulling out the necessary amount of Butter. “Of course,” answered Karkat to Sollux’s previous words, calm as ever. “Right before I stabbed them.”

Sollux snorted. “Not surprised.” A moment passed and something in Sollux’s eyes changed, a lack of focus that meant he wouldn’t think out his next words. “I should do the same with—”

Karkat smirked as the hacker cut off, already knowing what he was about to say.

Sollux sent him a dirty look, though his cheeks tinted yellow. “Shut up.”

“Didn’t say anything,” said Karkat pleasantly, content as he dumped the Butter and necessary Sugar into the mixer before gesturing for Sollux to do the same with the Flour.

The other eyed him warily before doing it, grimacing further when it became an uneven, gooey mixture of ingredients. “Are you sure this is right, KK? This shit looks disgusting.”

Karkat exhaled, annoyed at being questioned. He’d never tell Sollux that he doubted the Book on a regular basis too. “ _Who’s_ the expert here?” he said instead.

Sollux gave him a deadpanned expression. “Making shitty tea and a cake without frosting doesn’t make you an expert.”

Karkat reddened. How the fuck did Sollux know about that!? “Wait, how did you know—”

This time, it was Sollux’s turn to grin cheekily. “I told you,” he gestured over to the counter where the Book still laid plastered against it. “I saw you carrying that Book around before. Last I heard, none of the humans fucking cook—” _Karkat winces, a small pang going through him as he was reminded of his… previous assistant in cooking_. “—and I’m pretty sure only your sopor-obsessed moirail knows anything about cooking, but the Condesce’s blood will run warm before he makes anything but those fucking pies of his.”

Sollux used his psionics to raise a Cup of Flour before pouring it, still grinning like a fucking asshole. “What happened with that cake anyway? There’s a reason I don’t mess with this shit, but I’m pretty sure there’s supposed to be frosting—”

“It’s nothing,” said Karkat quickly, mood immediately souring at the memory of his previous cooking attempt. “Drop it.”

He reached over and flicked on the mixer.

**_WHIRL_ **

Sollux’s eyes widened and he quickly leapt back, obviously alarmed by the human monstrosity.

Karkat laughed maliciously at the other troll’s panic, relishing in the other’s suffering after all the suffering he had put Karkat through with this relationship bullshit.

“What’s wrong?” he teased, making a show of relaxing against the counter beside the hideously loud mixer. “Scared by a simple human machine?”

_He obviously didn’t fucking mention his own reaction when making the Vanilla Beginnings Cake._

Sollux grit his teeth, glaring as he stomped back over, the previous teasing air between them souring.

“Go get yourself culled,” he spat, obviously pissed. “You’ve been more of an asshole than usual, KK. What the _fuck_ is your problem—”

“My problem,” interrupted Karkat over the sound of the mixer, straightening and crossing his arms as he stared up at the taller troll, “is whatever the _fuck_ is going on with you and Eridan. You don’t want to admit your feelings, fine, but don’t be _destroying_ the rest of the meteor in your denial!”

Sollux looked away, hands turning into fists as sparks filled the air again. Karkat sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead and rubbing the skin there as he tried to think of a way to say this better than all the other attempts he’d made at this shit.

“Sollux, look,” said Karkat softly, though he still needed to be loud over the sound of the mixer— _he didn’t plan this out well._ “You’re my friend—you fucking know that. And the way we fuck with each other—completely platonic. So you should _know_ that what you have with Eridan _isn’t_. If you were _really_ going to kill each other, you’d have done it by now. So why do you keep pretending?”

Sollux still didn’t look at Karkat, but, after a moment, used his psionics to turn off the mixer. The sudden lack of whirling metal blades was disorienting, but Karkat kept his attention on his stupid as fuck friend, wondering if the other troll would _finally_ open up.

“So…” said Sollux finally, still not facing Karkat. “It’s obvious that you think he’s not just fucking with me because I’m Feferi’s matesprit and he’s a jealous douchebag, right?”

Karkat snorted. “At this point, _you two_ spend more time with each other than either of you do with _her_. And, that’s another fucking issue, but. _Yes_ , Sollux, I think that Eridan is madly in hate with you—is _that_ what you want to hear?”

Karkat could hear Sollux’s eyes rolling, but heard nothing else.  

Another moment passed.

It was… hard to tell, but Karkat had a feeling that something had finally clicked for the yellow-blood. But, the mutant was never one to get his hopes up. He’d have to wait and see.

But, until then…

“Like I said, we don’t have to talk about it,” Karkat smirked cheekily, using a spatula to wipe off the mixture and pulling the metal bowl from the mixer. “What’s the next step for these shitty Honey Lemon Bars?”

It was quiet for a moment, and Karkat honestly thought Sollux was about to walk out, before the yellow-blood glanced over at the Book and read off the next step:

  1. _Bake for 15 to 20 minutes until firm and golden. In another bowl, whisk together remaining 1 ½ Cup Sugar and ¼ Cup Flour._



For the next few minutes, the meal block is quiet as Sollux poured the mixture int pans and put them into the oven, setting the timer for the appropriate amount of cooking.

Karkat spent the time whisking together the Sugar and Flour, repeatedly checking on the yellowblood troll a few times, but only seeing the other in deep thought.

Karkat smirked. He didn’t know what Sollux was thinking, but he could tell that some progress was _finally_ being fucking made between these two.

He glanced at the next step, humming to himself as he felt content for what felt like the first time since the snafu with Strider.

  1. _Whisk in the Eggs and Lemon Juice; pour over baked crust._



Karkat’s mood dimmed, glancing ag the thermal hull where the Eggs were, memories of handling them the _last time_ still fresh in his mind. He shook his head, putting Strider-related thoughts from his head.

“Sollux,” he said, getting the attention of the hacker. “Get some dead cluckbeasts and whisk them together with the Lemon Juice.”

The door to the thermal hulled opened and a cartoon of Eggs floated out, surrounded by red and blue light. It lowered to a bowl on the counter as Lemon Juice quickly followed after.

Once the ingredients were on the counter, Sollux walked over and picked up the Lemon Juice. His face twisted in disgust as he poured the necessary amount.

Karkat snorted at Sollux’s grimace. “What’s wrong?” he teased, eyeing the bright yellow liquid pouring out.

Sollux glowered. “You wouldn’t be so smug if _you_ were dealing with _your_ blood color.”

Karkat grimaced, silently agreeing, but unwilling to admit it. “Don’t be so fucking squeamish. Just think of Eridan’s face when he realizes he’s eating something that’s your blood color.”

An Egg _crunched_ in the air where it had been held up by Sollux’s psionics.

The yellow-blooded troll spun around, face bright yellow. “Who the fuck said this was for _Eridan_?” he asked incredulously, as if it wasn’t fucking obvious this entire time why he was making this shit. “Why would I make _anything_ for asshole?”

Karkat rolled his eyes. “Really? Like you didn’t want to make this recipe when you read the whole ‘ _only the strongest of tongues can handle this dish without crying out for mercy’_ and the _‘perfect to show up someone in any situation’_ shit.”

Sollux glared, sparks flaring at the corner of his eyes, but the blush on his face was damning evidence. “Whatever, fuckass.”

Karkat snorted, watching as Sollux turned back around to violently ‘whisk’ together the ingredients. Though, the mutant thought that the other was doing it wrong given that he was pretty sure that the whisk was supposed to ‘go around in circles’ instead of being ‘banged up and down’ like a plunge device. Though, how the fuck was Karkat supposed to know?

There was one thing he was curious about though…

Karkat glanced at the Honey from where it continued to sit ‘innocently’ on the counter. He wondered what purpose it had. As far as he had seen, it hadn’t been used in any of the steps and he hadn’t seen it in later steps when he skimmed the page over in the beginning. He remembered using it in the Apple Blended Tea and Grape Detox Tea, both labeled ‘as needed’ but at least with projected amounts.

His brow scrunched. Did that mean that it was supposed to be added to the finished product? But how did that make sense? Wasn’t the point of this recipe to be aimed at ‘ _only the strongest of tongues’_ or some shit? Honey was sweet, so unless someone was worried about cavities, he didn’t see how it would apply. Honestly, he didn’t understand this fucking Book _at all_.

Karkat ignored his thoughts, reading the next step:

  1. _Bake for an additional 20 minutes before taking them out to cool._



“Sollux,” he said, when he thought that Sollux had successfully pulverized the Eggs and Lemon Juice into an evenly disgusting yellow color— _good enough_. “Fucking put it on the crust already—we need to cook it for another twenty minutes.”

Sollux grumbled, but nodded, using his psionics to complete said task as Karkat leaned against the counter, bored as the pan went back into the oven. They really didn’t have anything to do while they waited, so Karkat glanced at the Book, looking at the picture of the Lemon on it.

The blurb beneath it described it as _‘a yellow, oval citrus fruit with thick skin and fragrant, acidic juice.’_ To be fucking blunt, it sounded revolting. At least on its own. To be remotely edible, it probably needed something else to tone down that taste—

A tiny _ding_ went off in Karkat’s head and he smirked.

Oh.

So _that_ was what the Honey was for—

A voice interrupted Karkat’s thoughts.

“ _Karkat_! I wish to speak—”

Karkat blinked, turning around at the unexpected voice, watching as Eridan strolled into the meal block with a determined expression. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped cold when he saw Karkat’s company.

Karkat snorted, settling in for what was likely to be a very non-Karkat centered conversation. _It was sure to be fucking annoying._

“What the fuck you doing in here?” asked Eridan stiffly, reverting to his usual self.

Sollux sneered, though he looked less than intimidating holding a silver bowl and whisk in both hands. “Cooking, what the fuck does it look like?”

Eridan _hmphed_ , crossing his arms as he stood haughtily in the center of the disaster zone known as the meal block. “Like _you_ know how to cook?”

It was at that moment that the oven _dinged_ , alerting the kitchen that the oven was done cooking its contents.

Karkat’s eyes narrowed. He _knew_ that twenty minutes hadn’t passed yet, but…

He walked over, opening the oven and carefully pulling the pans out onto the counter. The Lemon Bars… appeared cooked. It was _bullshit_ , but Karkat was coming to expect that to be the normal from this meal block and anything relating to the Book.

Still, he knew exactly what he had to do. He turned towards Eridan, casual as ever. “Want one? They’re called Honey Lemon Bars, but we haven’t added the Honey part yet.”

Eridan seemed surprised at their existence before sneering— _a default expression to any circumstance, Karkat knew_. “They look _revolting_! As a highblood, I have classier tastes than something that _yellow_.”

Sollux, who had looked ready to protest Karkat’s offer, snorted. It was obvious he was offended and unwilling to just take Eridan’s words. “Could have fooled me.”

Eridan glanced at him, as if surprised that Sollux was responding the way he did. That hesitation allowed Sollux to speak again.

“Besides, it’s not that it’s yellow, is it?” Sollux mocked, leaning closer to Eridan. “You’re just too much of a _coward_ to try them.”

Karkat raised a brow, intrigued at this sudden change in attitude. He wondered how Eridan would take it.

Not well, given the bright violet that filled Eridan’s cheeks. “Why… I-I mean, of course I’m not _afraid_ —so _ridiculous_ , y-you _peasant—_ ”

Red and blue psionics covered the pan of Lemon Bars and it lifted into the air, coming to float in the air in front of the seadweller. Sollux smirked, mentally waving the pan in Eridan’s face and allowing the lemony-scent waft up.

“Prove it,” challenged Sollux, his multi-colored eyes suddenly intent.

Karkat raised his other brow. This was…rather overt black-flirting on Sollux’s part. Not the unintentional, confused bullshit from before. No, this was an obvious and _direct_ attempt on the yellow-blood’s part. Was Sollux… actually giving Eridan a chance?

And, from the growing look on Eridan’s face, the highblood was aware of the unique circumstances too. As a result, there was only one course of action he could take.  

Eridan slowly reached out into the mess of yellow, pulling a gooey piece of Lemon Bar. He hesitated only for a moment, mouth twisting when Sollux opened his mouth— _likely to goad the other—_ and popping the piece in.

The troll froze, face twisting as the taste hit.

For a moment, Karkat wondered if they had fucked up, that it honestly _was_ revolting and now the whole bullshit about being _‘wonderfully tart and sour’_ —

But Eridan didn’t spit it out.

In fact, he looked strangely determined to keep it in his mouth even as he spun towards Sollux. After a moment, he finally swallowed, cheeks still bright violet. “What is this monstrosity!? It’s so _sour_!” he whined, and Karkat almost laughed out loud. “Isn’t there anything to sweeten it? You can’t expect me to eat it in this condition—”

A bottle of Honey floated over and Eridan’s eyes snapped over to it, jaw slightly dropping at the sight. The highblood’s eyes widened, instantly understanding the trap that he had walked into as well as the fact that he had no way out.

“What’s wrong?” taunted Sollux, having obviously seen this end result before anyone else— _Karkat was glad, it would have been fucking awkward if he had to be the one to offer the Honey to Eridan_. “I thought you wanted something _sweet_?  Or are you _backing down_?”

_Wow, Karkat really need to leave—this was becoming fucking voyeurism on his part._

Eridan snarled, ripping the Honey from the air and squeezing it out on the pan of yellow to make the full form of the Honey Lemon Bars. He grabbed another piece and stuffed it into his mouth— _Karkat snorted; what a fucking moron—_ with a triumphant expression that quickly changed after a moment into bewilderment.

“It’s…” he started, mouth still partially full.

“Good?” asked Sollux, smug.

Eridan glared, even as he swallowed, but there was something different in the way he eyed the pan of Honey Lemon Bars. “I suppose it’s _edible_ ,” he said finally, after a moment. “No doubt because of Karkat here rather than any input by you.”

Sollux leaned back, a superior air around him. “It’s fucking yellow with honey, you _really_ think I didn’t have anything to do with it?”

The seadweller _hmphed_ , likely too off guard by Sollux’s proper black-flirting, the taste of the Honey Lemon Bars, and everything else about this situation. “I suppose you must have for it to be such a wretched color and flavoring. I’m sure that, if _I_ made it, it’d be far superior.”

Sollux’s eyes narrowed, the picture of a troll challenged. “I’d like to see you fucking _try—_ ”

Karkat rolled his eyes, subtly leaving the room as their arguing continued. His work there was done so there was no reason to witness to their overt black-flirting any longer. He just hoped that the meal block wouldn’t be fucking destroyed when he got back…or covered in _suspicious_ yellow and violet stains.

Karkat shuddered before rolling his eyes, wondering if the two would finally pull their heads out of their waste chutes. Probably too much to hope for, but he could tell that there had _finally_ been some fucking progress.

As he walked back to his respiteblock, he thought about the recipe. It was interesting that the Honey Lemon Bars were so different texture-wise from the Vanilla Beginnings Cake, despite the fact that they were made from what were almost the same ingredients. Was it the way they cooked it? Or had the Lemon really affected the recipe that much? When he got back to his respiteblock, he’d have to look through other recipes and see if they did the same thing—

He paused, clenching his _empty_ hands.

…shit, he had forgotten the Book, hadn’t he?

For a split second, he debated going back to the meal block to get it— _after all, who knows what those fuckers would get into if they had full access to that thing—_ when something seemed to ‘move’ at the corner of his eye.

Already suspecting what he’d find, Karkat looked up.

There was the Book, lying there ‘innocently’ in the middle of the hallway. There was no sign of anyone else or any _thing_ else that could have put it there. And, given the sounds of arguing still behind him, it was obvious that it hadn’t been Sollux or Eridan.

Karkat snorted walking forward.

“You’re creepy as shit,” he commented as he leaned down and picked up the Book, smoothing a hand over the cover and smirking at the fact that he was obviously insane for talking to a possessed Cooking Book. “You know that, Book?”

He put it under his armpit, a strange feeling of acceptance washing over him. “But, I’ll admit,” he continued, right before he turned the corner, “you got some fucking decent recipes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was longer than I originally planned. And, aww, Karkat is bonding with the Book! That’s good, he should accept his status as Pale/Ashen Leader for the Universe and beyond. XD 
> 
> First Sollux/Eridan chapter (it really turned out longer than I wanted) and I don’t know why, but I really like the idea of kissemitude. It sounds violent, yes, but it also sounds amazing to just have someone there to always call you out on your shit and not take your excuses. To be an eternal rival and encourage you to be better than you are from one of the strongest motivators there is—being pissed off. 
> 
> In this saga, they are similar to canon in that their black-feelings aren’t ‘confirmed’ but highly suspected from both sides—only even more obvious here. I also threw in that Eridan’s in an unconventional ‘love triangle’ between Vriska’s desire to make him her kismesis due to the Marquise/Darkleer thing and the obvious real romance going on between Eridan and Sollux. I think they’re such an interesting pair with such potential as rivals. 
> 
> EDIT: Again, the awesome wonderful artwork by VioletMoon123 has now been added! 
> 
> What do you guys think? Like it? Hate it? Thinks it needs work? Please leave a Comment or Kudos to let me know!


	5. Crabberry Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat’s been pretty stressed dealing with all these relationship issues. His moirail may be high as fuck, but Gamzee knows how to get his best bro to motherfuckin’ relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has literally been the busiest month of work in this college yet. I have no clue how I made and finished this chapter. No clue. As a result, I’ll try to make another miracle for next week, but it may be longer than a week for the next chapter… really sorry about that. Six days of full class days every week is a bit much to jumble with my personal projects. 
> 
> Anyway, enough of my complaining, welcome back! Thank you all so much for the comments and support. I really, really, really appreciate it more than words can say!
> 
> This is a Gamzee and Karkat pale-centered chapter. Gamzee’s always held a special place in my heart (before he went murderclown insane and all) and I know he has a lot more potential than many give him credit for. 
> 
> TAGS: Moirail Time; Gamzee Is Good Here; Cranberry—Crabberry—Pie; Karkat’s Kind of Been A Bad Moirail…; Gamzee Motherfuckin’ Gets It; Walnuts Are Quite Philosophical, No?

                                                                                          

“Heyyyyyy… what’s my motherfuckin’ best friend getting’ up to in here?”

Karkat twitched, a mixture of annoyance and amusement coming over him as he heard heavy, relaxed footsteps walk into the meal block. He didn’t bother looking up—only _one_ moron ever sounded so stupid and high all the time.

“What the fuck you want, Gamzee?” asked Karkat, flipping another page of the Book and reading about some sort of weird human ingredient that was apparently poisonous when cooked wrong— _seriously, how did humans survive when they messed with shit that they **knew** would kill them?_

The steps stopped in front of the table, giving Karkat a clear view of those ridiculous purple clown shoes that Gamzee wore every minute of the fucking day. Honestly, would surprise Karkat that Gamzee could even match the same shoes after waking up every morning if he didn’t only have _one pair_. Karkat had offered him, on multiple occasions, to alchemize some new ones, or to even ask Kanaya to design some, but Gamzee was all ‘ _nah, motherfuckin’ best friend, don’t hate on the toe crushers’_ and other shit… _idiot._

Karkat glanced up, fingers half-way between turning the pages, and met the ever-calm and relaxed face of his clown-obsessed moirail. “What the fuck are you doing? Don’t you usually just wander around during the day getting up to whatever the fuck it is you do?”

The mutant, because he wasn’t an overly clingy moirail, didn’t keep tabs on everything Gamzee did, but he knew that, at this time, he was either wandering around the meteor— _seemingly content to do nothing—_ painting some weird shit, bothering Karkat (which, apparently, was on today’s menu), or half-assed pursuing Tavros.

Karkat honestly felt sorry for the bronzeblood, his moirail so convoluted and vague in his Flushed Feelings that Karkat didn’t blame Tavros for getting a clue (of course, the wheelchair-bound troll _could_ buck up and ask Gamzee out himself… but, _no_ , that’d be too, uh, weird for some _stupid fucking reason_ ).

Regardless, Karkat had decided today was going to be a _no-relationship drama day_. As in, even if they the meteor was a second away from _disintegrating_ from eternally unresolved tension, Karkat would just sit back and chill. In fact, that was his current goal in looking through the pages of the Book beyond base boredom. He was fucking starving and wanted something that would solve all his problems— _Book owed him that much._

Gamzee gave a loopy grin, no doubt high as ever. “ _Heyyy_..! Isn’t that that motherfuckin’ Book you’ve been carryin’ around lately? Heard it’s got some pretty sweet recipes. Think it has anythin’ to make my sopor pies even more of a motherfuckin’ miracle?”

Karkat pushed Gamzee’s hand away, a grudging affection welling up inside of him as he snorted and rolled his eyes. “No, you need to be taking less of that shit as it is—”

Suddenly, the Book _moved_. Karkat would swear that he hadn’t touched it, but the page _flipped_ over to the next one, revealing a lazily swirled Red and Purple page.

**_Cranberry Pie_ **

_A light, super simple, and delicious dessert. After baking, make sure to cut a slice for you and your best friend and remember how important it is to relax._

“Shit, that looks like a motherfuckin’ tasty recipe,” commented Gamzee lazily. “It’s not sopor pie, but it’s still pie and it even has your name in it. Or, uh, your crustacean bro!”

 “Wait, what?” Karkat’s head snapped to his, eyes squinting as he tried to comprehend how Gamzee had come up with that. “Are you trying to say ‘crab’ you moron? What the fuck is wrong with your eyes? It doesn’t say anything like that!”

 “No, like, _look_ , Karbro.” Gamzee pointed a finger towards the title, content to let Karkat read it again. “Promise I’m not tryin’ to lead you motherfuckin’ wrong.”

**_Crabberry Pie_ **

_A light, super simple, and delicious dessert that even the edgiest of people can’t overcomplicate. Really, this treat is there for people who REALLY need to relax and take that crabbiness down a notch!_

Karkat’s eye twitched. This fucking _Book—_

Gamzee hummed, interrupting Karkat’s murderous thoughts, looking at the ingredients and reading them out loud in a slow, even tone:

**_Ingredients_ **

_1 Cup Flour_

_1 Cup White Sugar_

_¼ Teaspoon Salt_

_2 Cups Cranberries_

_1 Cup Cranberry Juice Cocktail_

_¼ Cup Seedless Raspberry Jam_

_½ Cup Chopped Walnuts_

_½ Cup Butter (Melted)_

_2 Eggs_

_1 Teaspoon Almond Extract_

The purpleblood whistled, impressed. “Wow, pretty motherfuckin’ complicated… but I know we can do it, best friend.”

Before Karkat could say something— _like fucking object—_ Gamzee walked over to the cabinets and opened them. The cabinet door opened and revealed, as always, exactly what they needed according to the recipe page.

Karkat paused, eyes wide. “How the fuck did you know that they’d be in there?”

The highblood looked at him, honestly confused. “Where the motherfuck else would they be, best friend?”

“No, I mean, how did you know—” Karkat groaned, deciding not to figure out how Gamzee had known that the ingredients would magically appear whenever the Book was in the area. For all he knew, the Book and Gamzee were in cahoots with the same strange entity that decided that _nothing_ in the world would make sense.

He glanced at the Book, already knowing what the first step would be but just wanting to double check:

  1. _Preheat the oven to 350 Degrees and grease one 9-inch pan._



Karkat walked over to the oven and set the temperature at the proper time, the entire time suspiciously watching Gamzee as the taller opened the thermal hull— _talking about motherfuckin’ miracles the entire time; seriously, did this asshole ever shut his mirthful mouth about that stupid shit?—_ and pulled out the Cranberry— _and they were **Cranberries** , not this fucking ‘ **Crabberries** ’ bullshit that the Book was pulling—_related items.

He snorted when he saw Gamzee balancing, in a way that should have been physically impossible, the Juice Cocktail jar on his right elbow, Raspberry Jam on his left wrist, and a bowl full of Cranberries in his arms. “You idiot,” snarked Karkat, feeling impossible pale for how much of a wreck the other was. “If you drop any of that shit, you’re going to be cleaning it up, got it?”

Gamzee set his load on the counter, easily juggling and bouncing the objects— _wait, what the fuck? They shouldn’t bounce like that—_ from his grasp to safety. “Don’t motherfuckin’ worry, bro. I got it covered. What’s the next step on making this miracle?”

Karkat rolled his eyes, but read the next step:

  1. _Combine the Flour, Sugar, and Salt._



Karkat walked over to a cabinet and opened it…

…to find it empty.

_What the fuck_?

Frowning, Karkat closed the door, waited five seconds, and opened it again. But, still, it was _empty_. “What the nooklicking bulgechafing fuck!?” he yelled, completely confused at what was happening. Had it been a month ago, he would have more than understood the emptiness of the cabinets, but the Book was open and, uh, they had just showed up for Gamzee, so, well… _fuck it,_ there should be _ingredients, goddammit!_

Too caught up in his irritation at the meal block’s _sudden rebellion_ , he didn’t notice Gamzee walking over to him until he saw him over his shoulder, peering down at him in confusion at Karkat’s sudden wrath. “Somethin’ motherfuckin’ wrong, best friend?”

“Yes!” seethed out Karkat, opening and closing the cabinets rapidly with a _bang, bang, bang_ even though he doubted they would just magically appear— _or, rather, he should expect that, since that had been how it worked until now!_ “There should be fucking _Flour, Sugar,_ and _Salt_ showing up in here! But it’s not fucking working—”

Gamzee watched him for a moment before reaching up to a higher cabinet that, until then, Karkat would _swear_ had been closed—or, maybe, he just hadn’t noticed it on account of it being legitimately taller than him—but now was standing just a _crack_ open.

Long, pale fingers dipped into the open crack and pulled it open with a soft _creak_. To Karkat amazement— _and eternal annoyance—_ there were the bags of _exactly_ the ingredients that they needed.

What the fuck!?

“Don’t know, bro,” said Gamzee, making Karkat realize that he must have said that last part out loud—that or Gamzee just knew him too well. “Seems really weird, but maybe it just be another one of those motherfuckin’—”

“If you say _‘miracles’_ one more time,” warned Karkat, temper flaring. “I _swear_ I’ll find a way to permanently close your mouth.”  
Gamzee snorted, knowing full well that Karkat was full of shit. “Whatever you say, bro.”

Karkat scowled and grabbed at the Flour, despite the fact that the cabinet holding it was _much_ too tall for him to reach. As a result, his fingers barely grazed it, but it was enough for it to adjust and _fall_ _out—_

The mutant went to grab at it, anything to stop the potential mess, when Gamzee was suddenly _there_ , moving Karkat out of the way, and causing the bag of Flour to _smack_ him in the face instead of Karkat.

The lowblood gaped as a _cloud_ of white filled the air and the Flour fell harmlessly— _right side up, what was this fuckery?—_ on the counter beside them from Gamzee’s face. “Why the fuck did you do that, asshole? Are you fine? I swear, if you somehow got injured by a bag of _Flour—_ "

Gamzee blinks, the Flour covering his face. Of course, it was hard to even _tell_ that their was Flour on his face on the account of his already present clown makeup.

He looks at Karkat, grins, before examining his reflection in the microwave. “Huh, not bad…”

_This. Fucking. **Idiot**. _

Karkat couldn’t contain his snort, a few nerve-driven chuckles falling from his lips. How the fuck was this idiot so ridiculous yet completely unflappable? Honestly, the numbskull could probably face down the Condesce and still just talk about the weather or his new favorite painting.

“I’d agree it’s an improvement,” said Karkat, feeling a bit silly for being worried in the first place— _but he was the idiot’s moirail, it was what he did_ , “but that’d be admitting there was something to _improve_.”

“Always so ruthless, best friend,” said Gamzee with a _completely_ believable pout-- _why the fuck was he even trying to pout? This freaking giant couldn’t pull off being adorable!_ “I’m beginning to think you only invited me to cook motherfuckin’ miracles with you so you could just _HONK_.”

“Yeah, that’s what happened,” deadpanned Karkat, tension leaving his frame. “ _I_ invited _you_.”

Gamzee nodded, as if it was the words of the Mirthful Messiah himself.

Eyes rolling in an attempt to distract himself from the grin threatening to form at the corner of his lips, Karkat gave Gamzee a pointed look. “You fuckin’ pan-addled asshole, don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” he warned, more playful than he had felt in a while.

 Gamzee looked at him, the picture of relaxation, further confirming that Gamzee had _purposely_ let that Flour spill over him for reasons beyond ‘protecting’ Karkat— _though, there was no doubt that the protection part had played into it._

There was no doubt about it. Karkat had somewhat noticed it when Gamzee had walked in, but now it was a _certainty_ that Gamzee was in one of those _moods_. The ‘mood’ being _to make Karkat laugh._

Yeah, as fucking ridiculous as it sounded, sometimes Gamzee just wanted to be ‘silly’ and cause Karkat’s supply of oxygen to become dangerously low from laughter. Yeah, the fucker knew what he was doing, but it was even _more_ grubfucking annoying that he really didn’t care that _Karkat_ knew. No, Gamzee was never the least bit ashamed to subtly tweak and press Karkat’s many buttons, playing him so skillfully that Karkat, for all his supreme wisdom and knowledge, would find himself outwitted and enjoying himself in Gamzee’s presence before he knew it.

_Heh, just like a moirail was supposed to be…_

“Can’t a motherfucker be worried about his best friend?” The words came more as a statement than question, Gamzee walking over to read the next step in the book. “Been unable to spend much diamonds-time with you lately, bro.”

  1. _Stir together the Cranberries, Juice Cocktail, Raspberry Jam, and the Walnuts._



The words of the recipe blurred in Karkat’s mind, those previous light, pleasantly pale feelings evaporated in an instance, leaving Karkat feeling cold on the inside. What was Gamzee talking about? No, wait… had he…

... _Holy_ _fuck_ , had Karkat, a self-proclaimed relationship group, been neglecting his own _moirail_?

When Karkat thought about it, he knew that it was true. _More_ than a bit true, in matter of fucking fact! He hadn’t spent much time with Gamzee after the game started, too busy keeping them _fucking alive_ but there was no such excuse on the meteor. Or, rather, there was, with the whole relationship issues threatening limbs and sanity every second, but that was more _drama_ than actual _life and death if you don’t fucking concentrate._

When was the last time he had hung out with Gamzee like this? In fact, he hadn’t even bothered with his obvious flushed feelings for Tavros on account of if being a low priority with all the other issues going on. And, even during the times since arriving on the meteor that they had been near each other, Karkat had, again, been more concerned with the various arguments. And Gamzee had just took it, said _nothing_ as his own moirail abandoned him to act-- _oh fuck--_ almost _pale_ towards others.

Karkat was, without a doubt, the worse being in _existence_.

He swallowed, the new revelation shaking him to his core. He tried to form words, but they wouldn’t work the first few times.

Then, finally: “Gamzee, I--”

“Hey, motherfucking best friend,” interrupted Gamzee, looking at the Book, apparently unaware of Karkat’s struggles as he put the Juice Cocktail and Raspberry Jam into the bowl full of Cranberries. “Can you pass over the Walnuts? What the motherfuck even are Walnuts?”

Karkat’s brow furrowed, once again thrown for a loop. But it really didn’t matter.

 “Gamzee,” Karkat tried again. “Forget about the pie--”

“Cause Walnuts just seems really motherfuckin’ _cool_ ,” continued Gamzee, pointing at something in the Book.

Karkat huffed in irritation, stomping over to see whatever the fuck was stopping him from rightfully groveling for Gamzee’s forgiveness and the prevention of their relationship break— _even if Gamzee would be completely justifiable—_

**_Walnut_ **

_The large wrinkled seed of a deciduous tree, consisting of two halves containing a hard shell that is enclosed in a green fruit. It takes a bit of effort to get to center, and even then, the hard internal center is only flavorful to a certain amount of tasters._

“Ah,” said Gamzee, nodding as if these were some sort of words of wisdom. “Now I motherfuckin’ see…”

“Gamzee,” said Karkat again. “Forget—”

“You know,” continued Gamzee, “you and Walnuts got a lot in common, don’t you?”

_…what?_

Karkat echoed the sentiment out loud, completely thrown for a loop. Here he was trying to _grovel_ , and this idiot just wouldn’t let him speak!

Gamzee gestured to the page where a picture of the hard-shelled nut laid, before it had been unshelled. “Well, just like the Walnut, you got a pretty tough shell, yeah?”

“We’re grubs,” said Karkat, impatient to get past this topic. “We _all_ have hard exoskeletons.”

The highblood hummed. “No, no, you know what I mean, bro. And I know it’s not your fault, just like it’s not the Walnut’s fault that it can be pretty dense. Makes it so it’s hard to see past anything or let anything in.”

Karkat’s breath caught for a moment before he swallowed, regaining control over his words.

“Of… course it is,” he said, a bit uneasy. “Stupid thing shouldn’t be so difficult in the first place. And… even if it wasn’t, it says right there that no one likes it.”

“Bro, you readin’ it wrong.” Gamzee shook his head. “I said, not the Walnuts fault. It’s just being the motherfuckin’ miracle it motherfuck being. Wouldn’t be itself it if is wasn’t. Besides,” he reached over and picked up a deshelled Walnut, eyeing it for a moment before adding it to the bowl with the Cranberry mix, “sure, you got to get past a lot of layers, but what’s inside is definitely motherfuckin’ worth it.”

Karkat’s moirail glanced at him, gaze suddenly _hyperaware._

“You got to not always be tearin’ yourself apart, Karbro,” said Gamzee, eyes half-lidded. “But I know you’re real motherfuckin’ bad at that, always worryin’ about those fuckers who can’t just accept you for the motherfuckin’ miracle you are, but I guess that’s why I’m ‘round.”

He shrugged, mixing together the rest of the Walnuts to the mix and creating a strange red-purple gooey mess. “You just keep on saving the world and making miracles, but I’ll always be around if you want to drop those layers and chill. Motherfuckin’ sound okay?”

Removing the hand stirring the Cranberry mix together, the highblood held out his fingers, making the unmistakable sign of Diamonds.

Karkat’s blood-pusher nearly squeezed out of his chest right then and there, almost leaped out and exploded in a disgusting mess of red that would have likely matched the stupid color of the Crabberry Pie filling. Or, at least, it would if Gamzee’s heart did the same and spread purple everywhere, mixing the two colors together.

As fucking gruesome and ridiculous it sounded, something inside Karkat warmed even further at the thought. Yet, what a pair of pale fuckers they were. Gamzee had been risking the chance of being culled and having his blood splattered along Karkat for years, Karkat shouldn’t be so close to a sniveling mess about it.

_And yet…_

Breathing out, Karkat reached his fingers and completed the Diamonds symbol, feeling the cool beat of Gamzee’s heartbeat against his much warmer fingers. He had no fucking clue how it ended up this way, but Karkat wouldn’t trade it for all the power in the universe.

“Pale for you too,” he said softly.

He let his fingers linger for a moment before turning away, embarrassed as all fuck at the very emotional and _public--even if no one else was in the meal block--_ affair. He was such a sappy asshole, there was no saving him.

He cleared his throat, looking distractedly at the directions. “Er, yeah, what the fuck is next with this stupid pie?”

Sensing that the recipe was coming to an end, Karkat glanced at the last two steps, already suspecting that the last one would just be cooking the dish in the oven. Of course, he was right _:_

  1. _Stir in the Butter, Beaten Eggs, and Almond Extract._
  2. _The mixture will be very thick and gooey as you spread the batter into the prepared pan. Bake for 40 minutes and serve warm._



Easy enough to do.

The retrieval of ingredients was filled with a light, playful banter-- _in saying ‘banter,’ Karkat meant that Gamzee would say the stupidest shit possible and Karkat would tell him how fucking stupid the shit he said was--_ as they got the Butter, Beaten Eggs, and Almond Extract before throwing them all into the gooey mess that didn’t _remotely_ look like it could possibly function or become something good.

But--Karkat glanced at Gamzee as he used his impossibly long limbs to put the Almond Extract back into the shelf--as Karkat knew, things that didn’t seem like they would fit came together all the time in cooking, didn’t they?

In cooking… and in life.

“Gamzee,” said Karkat suddenly, hurriedly handing Gamzee the bowl full of Cranberry Concoction. He blushed at Gamzee’s knowing face. “I… thanks, you know. For always putting up with my shit and letting me vent like this. You’re a good moirail.”

Gamzee chuckled, reaching a hand into the Cranberry Concoction and bringing it to his lips for another taste. Karkat couldn’t even bring himself to get mad, simply rolling his eyes at the obvious meal block violation.

“Anytime, bro,” said Gamzee easily, turning and spreading the mixture into the pan with more style and even-texture than Karkat would have suspected if he didn’t know for a fact that Gamzee was more than an accomplished artist and a lot more graceful than he appeared.

There was a lot that Gamzee hid, most of it in plain sight. Karkat was just glad that he was allowed to see things like this where, once, he had just overlooked them like everyone else.

Smiling, he took the finished pan from his moirail and put it into the oven, setting the timer to the appropriate time.

Then, for the next forty minutes, they simply talked. Just sat at the table, discussed the most random bullshit, and just… _were_. It was something that Karkat hadn’t, hadn’t _allowed_ himself to be, for quite a while. Or, in general, at all.

Before the game, and even now during it, Karkat had always been so paranoid about someone finding out about his blood color, of reporting him to the drones, and being dealt the fate a worthless mutant like him deserved.

When he had first met Gamzee, all those sweeps ago, he had been more cautious than ever around the highblood. For obvious good reasons on the account of his secret and the fact that highbloods were fucking dangerous.

He had been lulled into a false sense of security due to Gamzee’s easy going disposition and just fucking _pitiful_ state of being that Karkat, with all his stupid need to help others, couldn’t resist sticking his head into it and trying to manage Gamzee’s life. It had gone fine, even if they weren’t officially pale, and Karkat had been content with finally having a friend.

Then, because of that false sense of security, Karkat had fucked up. It had been insignificant, too fucking stupid to even mention, but Karkat had cut himself. With Gamzee around. And he knew for a _fact_ that Gamzee had seen his blood color because he had whistled and talked about ‘motherfuckin’ miracles.’

Karkat had been sure that it had been the end, that Gamzee would easily overpower him and take him to the drones. Hell, he didn’t even need to do that. He just needed to alert _anyone_ about Karkat’s existence and there’d be no way he’d survive with the _entire planet_ after his head.

But… just as he had been freaking out, Gamzee had done the unthinkable. He had handed Karkat a _band-aid_.

A. Fucking. _Band-aid._

Seriously, it was the most ridiculous shit ever and Karkat, unable to understand this realistic delusion, had just gone _off_ on the highblood. Started spouting shit about why the fuck wasn’t Gamzee reacting and how he deserved to die and that he knew he was going to deliver him to the drones _so why doesn’t he already fucking do it--_

During the whole spiel, Gamzee had been unmoved. Had let Karkat spit in his face and rage and rant and threaten without so much as blinking. Karkat would have thought he had randomly died from sopor poisoning if, after a long time when Karkat was too worn out-- _physically and emotionally--_ to rant anymore, Gamzee had simply looked at him. Or, rather, really _looked_ at him. As if seeing through his soul, some part of him _telling_ Karkat to shut up and listen.

Then, he had said:

_“It doesn’t motherfuckin’ matter if your blood’s red and my blood’s purple. How I see it, you be a motherfuckin’ miracle right before my eyes. I really don’t care what anyone has to say--you’re my motherfuckin’ best friend and that’s that.”_

It had made Karkat speechless- _-as well as **really** embarrassed because pale-inclinations didn’t get any motherfuckin’ clearer than that--_ had made Karkat want to rant some more, but Gamzee had simply put the band-aid on Karkat’s finger and gone back to talking about some random, stupid shit.

Karkat, who hadn’t known how to react, simply listened. To be honest, he decided that if Gamzee wanted to lie, to pretend it wasn’t an issue, then Karkat would wait. After all, he was fucking dead either way, so why not wait this out until it fucking crashed and burned on him?

So, he did.

Waited.

But that betrayal… it had never come.

_DING_

Karkat broke out of his thoughts, blinking as he realized that he had zoned out-- _oh fuck, he really was becoming like Gamzee, wasn’t he?--_ and that the sound had been the oven saying it was done. _Had it really been forty minutes already?_

He was about to stand up, to take the pie out of the oven, but was surprised to see no one sitting across from him anymore. Spinning around, he saw Gamzee opening the oven and pulling out the Crabberry Pie, putting it on the counter before languishly pulling a cutting knife out of a nearby drawer and beginning to cut out pieces.

Karkat was pretty sure that you were supposed to wait a while for it to settle or cool down, but _fuck it_. He was hungry after all this emotional bullshit.

It was an odd feeling as Gamzee served it to Karkat, the latter feeling like it should be the other way around-- _not just on account of blood color but the fact that Karkat… really wasn’t used to others doing things for **him** of all trolls--_ but not complaining as the heavenly smell of fruit and crust wafted up to his nose.

He inhaled in, mouth-watering as he took the spoon-- _why had Gamzee gotten them fucking spoons? Weren’t they supposed to eat shit like this with forks? Motherfuckin’ moron--_ and dipped into the warm, soft dough.

Cranberry sauce dripped from the piece, a rather nice shade of mixed red and purple, as he lifted it to his mouth. He took a bite, almost moaning from how the Cranberry flavor popped out and enveloped his senses. It was one of the nooklicking best things he had _ever_ tasted.

Across from him, Gamzee _actually_ was showing more emotion than normal as he also took a bite of his pie, grinning widely with a spot of Cranberry sauce on his teeth. “That be a motherfuckin’ miracle right there, Karbro.”

“Better than sopor pie?” Karkat couldn’t help but ask.

Gamzee hummed-- _Karkat held his breath--_ before nodding. “Sopor Pie is just full of them miracles,” acknowledged Gamzee, “but nothing can beat cookin’ up even _better_ miracles like this with my motherfuckin’ best friend.”

Karkat reddened, a pleased flush crossing his face. He turned, trying to be irritated as Gamzee laughed but finding himself unable to bring up a single ounce of irritation.

He shoved another spoonful of deliciously warm pie into his mouth, playfully knocking Gamzee on the arm across the table, needing to stand on the edge of his toes to reach him.

“Shut up and fucking eat.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang, now I want some warm pie and ice cream right now... 
> 
> I'm half considering making Gamzee and Rose as kismesis. I know that Terezi was Gamzee’s kismesis in one universe, but things are very different in this case.
> 
> Randomly, while writing the Detox Tea chapter, I thought to myself, wouldn’t it be great if Gamzee and Rose pushed each other to become sober as well pushed each other in other areas? 
> 
> Some might think that Gamzee isn’t intelligent enough to keep up with Rose, but he’s a lot smarter than most give him credit, especially in a personal sense, and I feel like they’d really get on each other’s nerves with all-too accurate ‘offhand comments’.
> 
> Also, I feel like that they’re a great contrast personality wise. Gamzee in this state is relaxed and accepting while Rose is like the needle digging into every little thing. Gamzee could push Rose to go more with the flow while Rose could heighten Gamzee’s already present skills.
> 
> What does everyone think? About this chapter, about Gamzee/Rose, about life… whatever you want! 
> 
> Please leave a Comment or Kudos to let me know!


	6. Mochi and Mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you had asked Karkat if John was depressed, he’d ask you if you liked slamming your head in the thermal hull for fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … 
> 
> …don’t mind me. I’m just dead over here in the corner buried in endless piles of homework… nothing to be concerned about… 
> 
> TAGS: John hates Cakes and Gushers—Mochi Looks Like A Combo Of Both; People Feel Trauma In Different Ways; Missing Dads; Everyone’s Lost Someone

                                                                                 

 

Karkat had been walking into the meal block with the Book when it abruptly opened it in his face, nearly _smacking_ him in the face as the pages fluttered open to sky-blue tinted pages.

“Hi Karkat! What are you doing?”

And, by the sounds of that _annoying_ voice, Karkat wearily accepted the fact that the almighty power that possessed the Book had apparently decided he needed to get his nose involved in another stupid problem.

He slowly turned his head up, glare deepening when he saw the signature dorky grin that John _fucking_ Egbert seemed to wear perpetually.

“Hey bulgemuncher,” said Karkat in greeting, rolling his eyes at his platonic hatefriend. Damn, had he _really_ had a hate-crush on _this_ idiot before? Please, like this fool was capable of negative emotions— _well, beyond the negative repercussions of his own stupidity that was._

John grinned before looking interestedly at the Book that, the moment Karkat walked past the table, plopped down onto the surface and didn’t look like it had any attention of budging. Which, Karkat knew, _it didn’t. Stubborn, unreasonable grubfucking Book._

“Okay,” said Karkat, cutting straight to the point because he really didn’t want to deal with whatever ‘hidden problem’ this idiot in front of him had but knew the Book wouldn’t turn to any other recipe until he did. “What’s your problem?”

John blinked, obviously confused by the question. “I… don’t know?”

Karkat snorted. It was the cluelessness _right here_ that made this human so oblivious to all of the issues he left in his wake. He wondered what this recipe would be trying to ‘solve’? The obvious kissmesitude with Terezi? Or the sad excuse for a budding flushed romance with Vriska? Or, maybe, it was a ‘sibling’ conflict with Jade? Regardless, Karkat really didn’t want to put up with this idiot on a one-on-one basis for long, so he glanced over at the recipe, wondering if he just sped through it if it would be satisfied.

He was met with the images of multi-colored… clay? No, it was some sort of mushy yet soft-looking pastry? What the fuck?  

He read the inscription:

**_Mochi_ **

_A delicious oriental pastry made with rice flour with sweet red bean paste in the center. If you were stupid, you’d compare it to cake or gushers._  

Karkat stared. Why the grubfuck would someone—

“Blegh!”

Karkat— _not surprised in retrospect—_ looked over at John with a hint of exasperation as he saw John grimace at the picture.

“I hate cake!” said John with a stronger look of distaste that the troll had ever seen on the human’s face before—even during a fight. “And they’re colored too, so they look like gushers!”

“I’ve made Cake,” said Karkat incredulously, though he preferred not to think too heavily about the Vanilla Beginnings Cake incident, “and this looks _nothing_ like it. And I don’t know what these ‘Gushers’ are, but I’m sure they’re fucking nothing alike.”

“No, really, Karkat! They’re identical!” protested John, pointing towards the picture. “It’s even got filling and everything!”

“Ugh.” Karkat put a hand to his face, already knowing the next annoying step to this fucking process. “I don’t even care to fucking argue this. How about we make these and _then_ you can see if they’re alike or not.”

John stared at him for a moment before holding up his hands. “Sorry, Karkat,” he said slowly, sounding out an almost mocking exaggeration of what was necessary. “But I told you already, I’m not a homosexual.”

_What? This STUPID fucker—_

Karkat reddened before reaching out to smack John, scowling when the god-tier simply turned that part of his body into Air and made Karkat’s hand go through. It only angered him further as he violently protested the insinuation, “Shut up, you nooklicking imbecile! I have no clue what the _fuck_ goes through your head, but I wasn’t ‘propositioning’ your or shit like that!”

The troll sighed, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Listen, you don’t know this, but this Book is fucking possessed.” He gestured to where it lied ‘innocently’ on the counter with its sky-blue pages. “Whenever it opens like this, it gets stuck and won’t come off the fucking table, so I’d prefer to skip this bullshit part and just get right to it, okay? I’m not fucking _flirting_ with you.”

John looked at him suspiciously. “Are you _sure_?” he asked, stretching the ‘s’ in the word far longer than it should have been stretched.

_Somebody give Karkat the fucking power not to strangle this moron and throw him off the meteor. Fucker was god-tier, he’d be fine._

“Yes,” gritted out Karkat, patience close to snapping. “I just want to make this stupid Mochi and get out.”

Unwilling to hear any more of John’s stupid commentary, he began to read the ingredients out loud:

 **_Ingredients_ **

_1 Cup Mochiko (sweet rice flour or Mochi flour)_

_¾ Cup Water_

_2 Cups Sugar_

_Cornstarch_

_Anko_

_Blue Food Coloring_

_Red Food Coloring_

_Green Food Coloring_

John tilted his head as Karkat listed off the ingredients, obviously still disgusted by the picture, but not yet walking away. “How are we supposed to get—”

Karkat completely ignored him, walking over to the cabinets and pulling out the obviously available ingredients. He _threw_ the bag of Mochiko Flour at supposed _friend-leader,_ graciously not snickering when the other fumbled for a moment before getting a hold of the bag. He glared at Karkat who shrugged.

“You wanted the ingredients,” he said innocently before walking over to read the first step:

  1. _Mix Mochiko and Water in a heat-proof bowl and mix well._



“Hmm,” Karkat nodded to himself and pulled out a glass bowl before handing it rudely to the Hero of Air. “Make yourself useful and measure out a cup of that Flour shit.”

He heard John grumble behind him as Karkat walked away. “You _could_ be a bit nicer.”

“And I _could_ ,” said Karkat in that same ‘pleasant’ tone, “just kick you out. Would that be fine?”

John grumbled again but Karkat could hear the sound of measuring. “I don’t even want to make this stupid cake thing…”

Karkat twitched, curiosity and irritation both pulling at him, but he ignored it as he measured out the proper amount of Water. He had never ‘steamed’ anything before, as he could see in later instructions, but he knew that forgetting to add the Water would lead to a fucking disaster. It seemed like forgetting _anything_ in these recipes was a one-way ticket to the land of agony and suffering, but things without _Water_ tended to explode.

He turned back around and walked over to the glass bowl where John had successfully— _if he hadn’t, Karkat would really question how he survived this long—_ added the cup of Mochiko Flour. Without further ado, Karkat dumped it in and began to mix— _not too fast, he had learned that lesson with the fucking mixer after all—_ before checking the next step.

  1. _Steam the Mochiko dough in a steamer for 20 minutes._



He scowled, searching the meal block before spotting a strange metal contraption sitting on the counter where he _knew_ it hadn’t been a few minutes ago. Did this random shit just pop out a black hole or was it already _there_ but somehow invisible?

“Whoa!” Apparently John had caught sight of it too, if one were to take his dropped jaw and wide jaws as being anything else than his regular idiotic self.

To Karkat’s surprise, John hurried over to the device, fawning over it as if it was some sort of treasure. “Where’d this come from? We need a steamer, right? And, _wow_ , that’s a _really good brand too_ —”

“How do you know that?” interrupted Karkat, making John stop in his tracks from where he had plugged in the steamer and was now fiddling with the buttons— _he better not fucking break it or Karkat would break his fucking face._ “I thought none of you humans knew how to cook.”

If… John knew how to cook, why the _fuck_ had the Book come to Karkat?

The sudden thought unsettled the troll. While John was being his usual fucking annoying self, he hadn’t shown any… ‘problems’ yet nor had the subjects of Terezi, Vriska, Jade, or anyone else been ‘magically’ brought up so that Karkat could yell at the other about it. Had… had the Book opened for another reason? Maybe… it had opened because it was in the presence of someone who _apparently_ actually knew something about human cooking?

Was… the Book going to abandon him?

_Was this the last time Karkat was going to cook?_

Despite the fact that he should be relieved at the idea, Karkat felt… strangely bereft.

“…not really.”

Karkat’s head popped up, taking a moment to register John’s word and the question he had asked before.

“Bullshit,” he snapped finally, suddenly annoyed for reasons he couldn’t even understand as he stomped over and put the Mochiko dough into the steamer and slammed the lid shut. “How the fuck else would you know what that thing was?” he asked, displaying his hand to the now steaming dish. “Even _Strider_ only had half a fucking idea!”

John tilted his head. “You cooked with Dave? What’d you make?”

Karkat reddened at the memory and crossed his arms as if it could somehow be an impassable gate to John’s questions. “N-Not the point—” _He wasn’t stuttering, shut the fuck up._ “—I want to know how you know about this shit and why you haven’t been fucking cooking until now!”

The troll realized that he was probably being a _bit_ hypocritical— _after all, if John had hidden his knowledge of cooking, or at least knowledge of steamers, just because he didn’t want to get stuck cooking for everyone else… well, Karkat could more than understand how annoying the dipshits on this meteor were—_ but something was eating at him.

He preferred to think it was intuition, his innate senses telling him that something was a bit off here— _rather than a ridiculous misplaced sense of jealousy that the stupid Book would choose someone else over him._

As the silence stretched on, Karkat realized that John really _wasn’t_ answering. Which was weird, because, usually, it was _impossible_ to shut him up.

Karkat’s grey eyes narrowed. So there really _was_ something wrong here, wasn’t there?

The steamer _dinged_ , forcing Karkat to go over and open the container. Steam misted up as he lifted the lid, nose scrunching as he grabbed a protective mitt from a drawer and used it to lift the plate of Mochiko dough out.

It… didn’t look edible, more like a lumpy spider web or some shit like that, but he supposed he could put up with its disgusting appearance a while longer. The Book had made him combine some pretty weird shit, but it _usually—fine, always—_ worked out so he supposed he could suspend his disbelief that this mess would turn out edible.

Ignoring John who was peering over his shoulder— _apparently content to pretend nothing had happened; the asshole—_ Karkat glanced at the Book on the counter beside him and read the next step:

  1. _Transfer the steamed Mochi into a pot and cook at medium heat with 1/3 of the Sugar. When the Sugar is dissolved, add another 1/3 cup of Sugar and mix well. Repeat for the last 1/3 cup of Sugar until completely dissolved._



Easy enough.

Karkat grabbed the bag of Sugar and a wooden spoon before beginning to follow the instructions by pouring Sugar into the bowl and mixing it.

John still wasn’t talking, which was creepy, but the silence was kind of a relief—

“It… really looks like cake mix.”

Karkat groaned. “What’s your fucking problem with _cake_?” he asked exasperatedly, stirring in the Sugar a bit more rapidly with his irritation. “What did it do? Murder your lusus?”

John tensed, even though the expression on his face was curious. “Lusus, that’s… like your parent, right?”

Karkat rolled his eyes— _he knew that John was avoiding the question now, but why? How did this relate to a relationship problem?_  

“Yes, bulgemuncher. If ‘ _parent’_ is the being that is supposed to keep you alive for a certain number of sweeps.” He waved his wooden spoon, where long, gooey bits of the Mochi stuck to it. “You still didn’t answer the question—did _cake_ somehow do that?”

John was quiet and Karkat was about to ask again, or at least some sarcastic rendition, when he caught sight of the look on John’s face. It was… different than usual. If Karkat were to put two words that it related to, he would have chosen ‘somber’ and ‘contemplative’… which were words he’d _never_ , until that instant, would have described this idiot with.

“Do…” John cleared his throat, as if something was preventing him from speaking clearly. “Do you remember your lusus?”

Karkat scrunched his nose, wondering where this was going. “Uh, yeah,” he said with a shrug, a tiny pang of regret and longing when he thought of his Crabdad. “Fucking overbearing and always wanting to fight—”

_But… Karkat knew he would have never survived as long as he had without Crabdad—something he would readily admit to anyone who asked. And when his lusus had died…_

“—but he was _my_ lusus,” finished Karkat awkwardly, shrugging.

“Do… you miss him?”

It was said so quietly that Karkat almost didn’t hear. Looking up at the human didn’t help clarify anything either, John still strangely expressionless as he stared at the mixing Mochi dough.

Still, it was an easy enough answer.

“Yes,” answered Karkat, point blank. It was embarrassing as fuck to say out loud, but he had a feeling that it was something the human in front of him needed to hear as the pieces start to _finally_ lay themselves in front of the troll. “And… I’d fucking bet that _you_ do too, don’t you?”

Karkat knew he didn’t need to clarify his words as John sniffled, misery falling over the human’s face like a flood of water.

“He was so _dumb_ ,” complained John, his tone not matching his words. “Always making stupid things like cake and buying gushers even though they were _disgusting_ and bothering me with those really creepy harlequins but… _but—_ ”

“But you’d like to see him again if you could,” finished Karkat softly, his mixing slowing. All the Sugar had already dissolved.  

John nodded, sniffling and rubbing at his eyes where tears had yet to fall. “Y- _yeah_ … it’s so stupid.”

“Not really,” said Karkat as he glanced at the next step in the Book:

  1. _Take the hot Mochi from the pot and divide into three different bowls. From there, add the food coloring to each one before transferring onto a sheet pan liberally dusted with Cornstarch._



Karkat nodded to himself and went over to a cabinet, pulling out the food coloring and three different bowls. All the while, still speaking, “Even though you humans are shamelessly pale over one another, you won’t find a troll on this meteor that doesn’t miss their lusus in some way.” Karkat slammed the cabinets closed, returning to where John stood. “Even Gamzee misses his, and that worthless excuse for a guardian abandoned him for the sea half the time!”

He scraped out the Mochi into three separate bowls before throwing the pack of food coloring at John The human caught it with an astonished expression, as if he couldn’t connect the really obvious dots that Karkat was trying to string together for him.

The mutant rolled his eyes. “But they were all we had for a long time,” finished Karkat, stressing the sentence, hoping the human would understand what he was saying, “so don’t think it’s fucking weird to miss him.”

Karkat handed the wooden mixing spoon over, not commenting when John took it with a shaky grip. “So,” The troll continued, a bit awkward with all of this emotion. “Instead of ignoring that you miss him, why don’t you help me out with this shit? You said he liked to cook, right? It'd probably make him, I don’t know, proud or something.”

John looked down at the spoon in his tight grasp before back at Karkat.

A moment passed— _Karkat wondered if the idiot had heard a single word he said—_ before a grin broke out on John’s face. If it was a bit watery, Karkat didn’t say anything.

They set out adding the food coloring to the three separate bowls, watching the white dough turn respectively into the colors of blue, red— _though it was more like a stupid pink since John obviously didn’t know how to add enough food coloring—_ and green.

Satisfied with the coloring and setting the Mochi onto the pan of Cornstarch for John to roll out, Karkat looked at the last step:

  1. _Roll each piece of Mochi around a spoon-full of Anko. Then bite in and reminsce._



It was relatively quiet as they rolled the bits of Mochi around the strange _Red Bean Paste_ — _that was apparently called ‘Anko,’ humans had weird names for everything_ —with John complaining whenever bits would get stuck beneath his fingernails and Karkat yelling at him for being a fucking wimp.

Karkat wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he put the first completed piece of Mochi— _one of the stupidly pink ones—_ into his mouth, but he was… pleasantly surprised by the unique taste. It was almost gummy at first, but without the annoyance of parts getting stuck to the top of his mouth. It had an almost dusty aftertaste— _hmm, maybe he added too much Cornstarch—_ but paired well with the Anko. It really wasn’t like the Vanilla Beginnings Cake, but there was admittedly _some_ resemblance—

“ _Sniff_.”

Karkat glanced over but remained quiet as he saw tears streaming down John’s face as the human chewed a larger than comfortable piece of Mochi.

Karkat looked away, respectful enough to let the other mourn in silence as he concentrated on the taste of his own piece. Idly he wondered if his lusus would have liked it. Probably fucking not, but, after that conversation, Karkat could admit to himself that he wished that Crabdad was here to even reject trying it.

“You know,” Karkat commented after swallowing his piece and reaching for one of the green pieces, “my lusus liked Chilled Roe Cubes for whatever reason. Fucking obsessed with them even. They stunk up the thermal hull and didn’t even taste good!”

John snorted, even as he rubbed away wetness from his face with a blue pajama sleeve. “I don’t know what those are, but they _can’t_ be as bad as all the pies that my dad would make—”

Karkat whipped his face around— _screw being respectful; this fucker was asking for an ass-kicking—_ insulted at the blatant challenge to Karkat’s supreme opinion. “You have any idea what Chilled Roe Cubes fucking smell like!? They’re _disgusting_! Definitely worse than the smell of _Sugar_ in the air—"

John scowled, sticking out a blue-dyed tongue childishly. “Are not! I couldn’t even _stand_ being in the same _house_ during baking season—”

For the next hour, even after all the Mochi was gone or packaged away to the thermal hull, they were still arguing about whose parent’s annoying habits were worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… yeah… wrote this chapter barely. I’m so drained from classwork it’s ridiculous… Like I wrote this and uploaded it, basically… hopefully not too many errors... 
> 
> Regardless, this chapter is important because it shows that Karkat is not just dealing with the inter-relationship problems of the meteor, but essentially with ALL manner of emotional problems. 
> 
> John's sadness over his father's death doesn't truly come out until he meets Jane's father. Until then, it feels like he was repressing it with jokes and an over-obvious hatred of cakes. I feel like that was his way to distance himself from the pain and guilt. Truthfully, ALL of them deserve to be at least a BIT messed up over their lusus/parent death, because it was freaking tragic (ironically, Dave seems the most remorseful and thoughtful about his Bro's death--and Bro was a distant, abusive jerk!). Everyone needs time to mourn and to remember, that even if someone they love is gone, there's way to honor and remember them without just suppressing the feelings. 
> 
> And, even if your parent isn't gone for your life, I know, myself, that I miss my mother's chocolate chip cookies when I'm away from home. I can cook as much as I like, but I can never truly reach the level and comfort that hers bring me. 
> 
> Please leave a Comment or Kudos to let me know what you think! Again, I'm so sorry about the late update and likely obvious errors...


	7. Valentines Variety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentines Day Special Post One Year: wonder if they're all still alive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is essentially an unconventional Valentine’s Day/100 Kudos Special (cause my craving for chocolate actually became my muse) set about a YEAR after when Karkat first finds the Book. This, in some ways, would act as an epilogue because it’s where all the quadrants have been finalized and a few SURPRISE quadrants were also introduced. See if you can find them all? Or you could just cheat and look at all the new pairings on the relationship listing… 
> 
> I’ll continue to make updates that basically state how all these pairings got together, but this is essentially the end result of Karkat and the Book’s efforts. I thought it fit rather perfect for this milestone, essentially, to happen on Valentine’s Day. Though, I may do more holiday meals just for the heck of it. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Do not own photo; just used gourmet flavors for inspiration 
> 
> TAGS: Valentines Homemade Chocolates; About A Year Time Skip From First Chapter; Too Many Recipes To List--Oh Well; Trolls/Humans As Family; A Fucked-up Family; ALL THE PAIRINGS; Unconventional Pairings; So Much Fluff and Blatant Flirtation

                                                                                      

“Oh, fiddlesticks,” Equius warily held up the titanium spoon from the indigo-colored bowl, letting the Milk Chocolate drip down from the metal at a far quicker pace than desired when making Chocolates. “Is it supposed to be like this?”

Nepeta giggled from where she was making Coconut and Key Lime flavored Chocolates with Jade over by the stove, the two bit more focused on making them cute animals shapes than helping the others make their own flavors. “No, silly! That’s way too much Milk!”

“No, that can’t be...” Equius frowned, staring at the Chocolate and leaving impressions the titanium spoon in his hand, though it didn’t break under his strength. “Where is the Book--”

“We got it!” shouted John from where he was currently having a stare down contest with Terezi, holding the open-paged Book to his chest. “And I’m not giving it to anyone until _Terezi_ gives me back my bowl!”

Terezi stuck her tongue out, running a finger through John’s blue bowl of Dark Chocolate mixed with Pralines, grimacing at the taste and completely ignoring his yell of indignation. “Ew, this is so disgusting. You’re _really_ going to try giving these out?”

She reaches towards her teal-bowl that contained her own White Chocolate Ganache infused with Kirsh Extract, Cherry Puree, and Italian Amarena Cherry-- _she had chosen one of the most complicated recipes, but had been adamant once she ‘smelled’ how much cherry was in it--_ and was about to pour some into John’s bowl when a sudden gust of air hit the bottom of the blue bowl. It rocked up, allowing John to snatch it in the air and safely return it to his own arms. Only, this also made Terezi’s teal bowl fly up and cause _Amarena Cherry_ to hit her face.

John smirked cheekily. “Oh? Did that hit you? Well, your stupid cherry flavor is better off on your face than eaten anyway.”

Terezei scowled. “You--”

“Quit it, both of you,” scolded Vriska, stepping between them with an obvious grin as she held her bowl of Dark Chocolate mixed with Toffee. “I’m sure both of them will turn out fine--”

The Book suddenly glowed a bright red and blue, floating away from John’s chest.

“Hey!” Vriska’s pleasant expression fell back to normal as she glowered at the offender. “Give that back before I rip your horns off!”

“Just try it,” sassed Sollux, not even looking at Vriska as he used his psionics to flip through the pages until it went to his current recipe of, White Chocolate filled with Banana Cream. Once he reached the page, he yelled in triumph, sneering at the individual to his right. “Told you there was no Honey, dipshit!”

Eridan, from where he stood next to Feferi on the counter next to the thermal hull, grabbed the Book with a scowl. “No, there has to be…”

He paused before flipping the page to the recipe Feferi was making, Passion Fruit Milk Chocolate with a Honey Butter inside. “Ha! I knew it! Feferi’s Chocolate has Honey…”

Sollux yanked the Book back. “What the fuck do you care?” he asked, ignoring the daggers that Vriska was still glaring at him as she rotated a spatula threateningly in her fingers. “You’re making shitty Dark Chocolate with Caramel Sea Salt and Fef’s not your moirail anymore--”

“Be that it may,” interrupted Kanaya, walking over from and peaceably taking the Book from Sollux, smiling at Eridan who immediately calmed at sight. “Isn’t it part of the experience to help each all other out? Friendships, even if not romantic, should be celebrated, yes?”

“Fuck no,” answered Sollux. “And I’m beating all you assholes in this contest, no sweat.”

Beside Sollux, Aradia giggled from her spot where she crafted her Hot Chili Chocolates-- _a Milk Chocolate ganache infused with Jalapeno Pepper, Cilantro, patron Tequila Extract, Lime, Vanilla, and Cinnamon--_ into miniature skulls. They were extremely creepy. “When did this become a contest?”

“It did when-- _Kan!_ ” Sollux’s head snapped over to where Kanaya continued to carry the Book away to the other side of the meal block. “Where are you taking that shitty possessed Book--”

“Hey!” snapped Eridan at Sollux, annoyed again even as Kanaya papped him on the cheek on the way. “Don’t talk to her like that--”

Kanaya walked over to where Rose was currently glaring at Gamzee; Rose seemingly calm as she mixed her Rosemary White Chocolate, but obviously not with how tight her fingers were woven around the spoon, while Gamzee stared with heavily lidded, yet intense, eyes as he stirred his own Raspberry Chambord in a purple bowl.

“--sure that it’s not alcoholic?” Rose said, raising her chin delicately at the flavor. “I’m sure you wouldn’t know, given the difference of culture, but Chambord is actually a type of _liquor_ \--”

“I trust the motherfuckin’ Book, bitchsis,” said Gamzee, taller than Rose even while slumped down. “Calm your motherfuckin’ tits.”

“I’m back,” said Kanaya, bringing the Book over with a smile and turning to the recipe page that Gamzee had chosen for his Homemade Chocolates. “And it appears… that Gamzee is correct. While typical Chambord is alcoholic, this was made purely from Black Raspberry Extract, Citrus Peels, Honey, and Vanilla--no alcohol.”

“See?” said Gamzee amiably, reaching up to the top shelf to hand the Tavros-- _who was cheerfully sprinkling Salt into his bronze bowl beside them--_ the Peanut Butter necessary for the next step in his Peanut Butter Salted Hazelnuts Chocolate. “You worry too much, bitchsis. Just go with the flow and let them motherfuckin’ miracles happen.”

“And be like you who worries about nothing?” replied Rose, teeth gritted even as she tried to maintain her composure in this public setting around her kismesis. “You may content to simply waste the days away in a stupor--”

In the center of all this chaos, Karkat sighed, counting to ten in an effort to keep his temper in check as he helped Kanaya measure out the proper amount of Mint for her Mint Chocolate. It wasn’t so much that she needed help with such things, being accomplished in the kitchen herself by now, but that Karkat _needed_ a break from all the craziness going on in this one small space. Even if it was only for a second.

He recalled how this all started. For some reason, the Book had woken him up _early_ this morning. As in, it had _somehow_ dropped on his face from where he had held it down with a brick on his bedside-- _the brick was nowhere to be found; asshole Book, he needed that to throw at people who interrupted his reading--_ before doing something really strange.

It had opened to a page of _recipes_ rather than just a single one. And, instead of being stuck on one single page, it allowed him to flip through a dozen more pages that had each of the individual recipes listed upon them. There was also the fact that the first page was a literal rainbow of colors while the other pages were somehow ‘splattered’ with said rainbow, no one page an individual shade or even understandable mix of shades.

Convinced that the Book had finally cracked-- _and he realized that sounded crazy, but by now everyone should know this fucking Book was sentient and an asshole--_ he had tried to go back to sleep-- _cause God knows what time it was, but he **knew** it was considered ‘early morning’ for those stuck on this stupid meteor--_ but the Book had _somehow_ fallen on his head again.

It was then that, deciding that he wouldn’t get any sleep if this shit kept up, Karkat ‘agreed’ to get up-- _it was his decision, dammit, not because of anything the Book fucking did--_ and then decided it would be smart to go to the meal block because his gastro sack was empty and food was fucking essential to life.

It was while walking to the meal block that he read the first, rainbow-dominated page:

**_Happy Valentines Day_ **

_A holiday in honor of relationships and romance! Take the time to make some homemade chocolate to show those special people in your life how much you care (or hate) them. Prepare for a mess because that’s how Valentine’s is best!_

Karkat was rather certain that, had this Book actually shown up on the human planet, they would have been very confused, but, given that he was from Alternia and the weird mixed-culture being created on the meteor, he knew _exactly_ what the Book was talking about. Only, instead of Its usual attempts to fix ‘relationship problems,’ It was apparently trying to make them celebrate some sort of widespread festival of them! What the actual fuck? It was a _terrible_ idea--

Karkat stopped in the doorway of the meal block, a wide array of cooking appliances and ingredients laying out on the counters. He knew without even looking that they were all the things necessary to make the various recipes found in the currently available pages…

_Aw, fuck it._

Karkat sighed, stepping into the meal block willingly as he eyed the various recipes of ‘ _Homemade Chocolates’_ on the pages…

And from there led the current events, with every troll and human _accidentally_ gathering in the meal block in a span of an hour. For whatever grubfucking reason, they had _all_ been interested in making these wretched Homemade Chocolates for their various quadrants. Which, given that they had more than enough black romances happening in this meteor, also turned into a _massive cooking competition_. Which had somehow translated over to a competition between all the red quadrants as well!?

Suffice to say, _the meal block was a fucking disaster_. Arguments over flavors, ingredients (even though there was more than fucking enough), bowls (each of them were fucking color-coated, why the fuck was there any problems?!), and various other bullshit.

Not to mention the mixed quadrants fuckery…

Karkat mentally groaned, glancing over at the many ‘interesting’ relationships and interactions happening right now. He’d call the amount of bipolar moods happening in here fucking vacilitation if it wasn’t for the fucking fact that no one was really _vacilitating_ \--simply being exposed to their various quadrants in the same small setting.

“You weirdo!” snapped John, angrily pulling back his spoon where Terezi had it with a vicious grin. “You licked it! Now I have to get a new one!”

“Here, John,” Vriska passed over a brand new mixing spoon, apparently already suspecting this to happen. John immediately brightened, sticking his tongue out at Terezi, who, while not being able to see, scowled at the display.

Karkat eyed it with barely suspended disbelief. He had never thought that _Vriska_ , of all trolls, would act as a mediator in any way or capacity. Yet, here she was, subtly working the relationship between her matesprit and moirail with more finesse than he would have thought possible of her. He would have thought she would just fan the flames, but, apparently, she actually gave a fuck about keeping relative peace among the three of them and was actually being _responsible_. It… made no sense. Yet, it was happening, and Karkat was strangely appreciative of her almost ashen efforts to keep those two from murdering each other.

“Gamzee,” said a tensely controlled voice, making Karkat look to his side where Rose was currently glaring at Gamzee. “Why are you adding those Blackberries to your chocolate? You weren’t--”

“--supposed to add them?” The purple-blooded troll idly shrugged. “Calm it, bitchsis. Saw them and thought they’d make some motherfuckin’ miracles with the rest.”

She glared. “No, you’re only adding them to--”

“You’re gettin’ _awfully_ worked up about some simple Berries, bitchsis.” Gamzee eyed Rose with a knowing gaze. “Motherfuckin’ just go with the flow…”

Karkat watched the two subtly argue with one another, neither raising their voice but somehow making their burning hatred for one another obvious. Honestly, this was one of the many relationships that Karkat hadn’t expected at all.

Apparently, it had all started when he had first made the Grape Detox Tea for Rose all that time ago, some sort of argument erupting between them behind the scenes about their mutual substance-addiction, which had then developed into a full-on kismesissitude under a certain Book-guided recipe.

“Fine,” said Rose, raising her nose primly as she returned to ‘speak’ to Kanaya, obviously unwilling to admit she had lost the argument. “I agree that the blackberries will be a useful addition to the flavor…”

“Motherfuckin’ miracles,” muttered Gamzee under his breath.

Karkat snorted, wondering who was ahead on their ‘passive argument’ relationship now. Honestly, he thought it was good for them both-- _if fucking terrifying at times--_ since it gave Rose the unlikeliest of rivals that forced her to rethink her rather stubborn views on life while it pushed Gamzee to stay mentally sharp and focused even with his bipolar moods during sobriety. It was unexpected, but Karkat would be the last to comment on unconventional relationships after this last year.

“Now that has been solved,” said Kanaya pleasantly from Karkat’s side as she pushed the Book over the table towards her moirail. “Eridan, would you like this back?”

Ignoring Sollux and Vriska’s cries of indignation-- _they were still fighting over who got the Book next--_ Eridan picked up the Book with a triumphant nod. “Thank you, Kan. I need to see how much Corn Syrup to add to my Caramel Chocolates…”

“½ Cup,” piped up Kanaya as she took her jade-green bowl from Karkat’s grip. “And don’t forget it’s _Light_ Corn Syrup, not the regular type that Feferi is using.”

“Ah, yes… by the way, Kan,” Eridan glanced at her before quickly passing over the Jade Green Food Coloring.

Kanaya took it with a bright smile as Eridan blushed violet, stammering,  “I managed to get it away from _that--_ ” He jerked a webbed thumb towards where Jade and Nepeta giggled over their creations, unaware that their armada of Food Coloring had been stolen from. “--blatant display of flushedness.”

“There’s nothing wrong with showing your emotions,” said Kanaya patiently, even as she added three drops of Jade Green Food Coloring to her chocolate, giving it that brighter color that Karkat knew that she had wanted. “Is there, Eridan?”

Eridan flushed again before pretending to look busy with his Chocolates. Kanaya simply smiled and returned to where she watched Rose and Gamzee’s new argument with interest.

Karkat shook his head. Yet _another_ relationship he really hadn’t seen coming. While he had honestly believed that Eridan and Feferi’s pale relationship wasn’t the best, he hadn’t thought that _Eridan_ of all people would be the one to break it off. Of course, it had happened right here in this kitchen all that time ago, so it wasn’t like he didn’t remember clearly how it happened, as well as how Eridan and Kanaya had gotten together. It had been such a _stupid_ day.

He glanced over to where Nepeta and Jade were now putting more Sprinkles on their mini-cats and mini-dogs than would _ever_ be needed. Though, he supposed that he should have seen _that_ flushed quadrant coming but, like most things that happened with them, it had been an unexpected whirlwind of excitement and randomness that, even after being in the meal block with that day, Karkat _still_ had no fucking clue how it resulted.

Karkat watched as Jade got too excited with her Sprinkles and sent them flying… into Equius’ runny Milk Chocolate.

The mutant troll’s eyes widened. Oh no.

Equius glared at Jade, his anger obvious even with his broken glasses on. “Harley! You did that on purpose!”

Jade scowled at him, ignoring Nepeta’s sudden giggles from beside her. “No, I didn’t,” she taunted. “And, even if I did, you should be glad! You’re doing horrible! And you’ve already dented that titanium spoon I reinforced!”

“W-well, I--” Equius forcibly breathed in and relaxed his grip, preventing him from denting the metal spoon reinforced with Jade’s powers in his hand any further.

“So, stop it!” snapped Jade before she returned to discussing shapes with Nepeta, the two girls giggling at their stupefied and irritable quadrant behind them.

Karkat shook his head. If someone had told him a year ago that the elitist Equius and carefree Jade would be in the black quadrant together… he’d have _really_ wondered for their sanity. Yet, here it was. It did work, though, with surprising results.

Jade, with her weird Witch of Space abilities, was able to manipulate the size and momentum of objects. Somehow, with this kismesissitude, it had also translated into her creating extremely reinforced objects for Equius to be able to handle without fully breaking while also being able to _decrease_ Equius’ strength whenever she was around.

Equius didn’t have to worry about going all out on his strength (while also learning to control it better) and was forcibly brought down from his hemospectrum-obsession while Jade was able to see a different side to everything and, essentially, be more responsible. It wasn’t… a typical black romance, but, again, it somehow fucking worked.

“Uh, hey!”

Karkat glanced over to the table in the middle where Feferi and Tavros were currently having a stare down, the stick of Butter that Karkat had seen Tavros reaching for now being pulled away away by the Heiress herself.

“Oh, sorry,” said Feferi with an apologetic expression, though it was a bit off, as she pulled the stick of Butter even closer to herself. “Did you want that Tavros? Sorry, maybe you should have _spoken up_.”

“You’re, uh, right,” snapped Tavros, getting closer to her with a ‘pleasant’ smile. “And _nice_ job just taking something. Kind of surprised you’re not, uh, a sniveling mess of apologies right now.”

“I’m glubbing better than that,” replied Feferi, though it was a bit hesitant. Probably because, had it been a year ago, she would have done just that.

Karkat shook his head. Now that, _that_ , there… was, no doubt, the _strangest_ romance on this entire fucking meteor-- _or at least tied with a fucking million others_. This black romance had, again, started right here in this meal block but, unlike normal kismesissitudes which was essentially an insulting contest, Tavros and Feferi’s relationship was some sort of backhanded session of insincere compliments? He knew the purpose, to snidely point out how the other was either too passive or too friendly and, as a result, make them stand up for themselves and feelings more, but _still_ … what the fuck?

Karkat leaned against the counter, grumbling to himself and wondering what he was going to do with all these fucking insane teammates of his.

“Yo, Karkat, what’s up with the long face?

Karkat glanced at his matesprit-- _though, they were always fucking vacilitating… Karkat would never admit how fucking amazing it was--_ before exaggeratedly rolling his eyes and displaying his hand towards the rest of the meal block.

Dave, of course, already knew the source of Karkat’s migraine and, like the nooklicking asshole he was, just sniggered. “What? I thought romance was your shit? And didn’t you want some more team-building bullshit?” He gestured towards the kitchen. “No one’s blown up the fucking fridge yet, so I’d say it’s going well.”

Karkat snorted, remembering that day. A day that would _never be repeated_. “It’s fucking stupid,” he answered as he glanced over to where Dave was crafting his own Homemade Chocolates with a surprisingly deft hand. It was just the _end result_ that was stupid as all fuck. “And what the fuck are you even making?”

Dave grinned, bringing over his tray of White Chocolate filled with Strawberry Cream closer. If Karkat wasn’t mistaken-- _he wished he was, oh fuck he wished he was--_ those were all characters from that _thick-pan addling_ comic, SBAHJ, that Dave made on his off time. “C’mon, bro, you’d have to be pretty _sour_ not to recognize these fantastic _pizzas_ of art!”

“Stop that,” said Karkat immediately, though he knew for a fact that Dave hadn’t listened to his matesprit’s reasonable requests to stop food puns since first walking into the meal block all that time ago. “Stop that right now.”

“C’mon, Kitkat, my puns are _grate_ ,” said Dave smugly, reaching for a toothpick from the container of them on the stove. “Don’t put down the artistic genius of your _butter_ half.”

“Screw that, we all know that I’m the bu-- _better_ half,” griped Karkat, ignoring Dave’s snigger as he searched the meal block for the next disaster waiting to happen.

Dave used a toothpick on the Chocolate grubfucking stupid characters, seeming to emphasize the plusheness of its ass. “Dude, aren’t you going to make something? You’ve just been running around since this morning helping everyone.”

Karkat shrugged. “Book didn’t give me a recipe,” he said simply, as if that was all that had to be said. Which, really, it was. And he was almost grateful too, far too busy dealing with the combined conflict of this meal block on his own. “Probably knew that I’d be too distracted helping you fuckers.”

Dave hummed, a strange expression on his face but not answering.

Karkat was about to ask what was wrong when he saw Equius finally snap the titanium mixing spoon. And, while it was a longer record compared to the last one he’d broken today, the resounding argument between Equius and Jade was inevitable.

He sighed, hiding somewhat of a smile, as he went over to yell at the two shameless idiots--

o0o0o0o

Twenty minutes later found them at the long table of the dining room, chaos continuing here as trolls and humans both exchanged their Homemade Chocolates to their various quadrants with _very_ different results each time depending on who, what quadrant, and the personality of the giver and receiver.

Karkat snorted from where he sat at the head of the table, thinking about the remains of the meal block where every color and type of stain covered the walls, floors, and quadrants. Seriously, there was everything from dashes of White, Dark, and Milk Chocolate on the stove, bits of Black Raspberry, Pralines, and Hazelnuts on the floor, stripes of Banana and Strawberry Cream on the walls--it was a fucking _mess_. And he was sure as _fuck_ that he wouldn’t be the one to clean it up. But, for now, he supposed he could be content with watching the resounding conflict.

“Hey, Kitkat,” Karkat glanced to his right where Dave sat, eyes widening when he saw the human push over a small bag of Homemade Chocolates. It wasn’t like he didn’t expect his matesprit to not give him Homemade Chocolates it was just…

The mutant opened the bag slowly, eyes widening when his initial thoughts were confirmed. They weren’t even shaped like Dave’s shitty comic pieces, but perfectly formed hearts with individual messages like ‘ _Kitkat for Kitkat’_ and _‘Romantic Shit’_ that Karkat _knew_ hadn’t been made by either Jade or Nepeta because they’d never desecrate their creations as such. There was only _one_ idiot who could have made these and made them for Karkat especially. Somehow, in-between Karkat’s various distractions, he must have crafted these.

Dave grinned, smile far more genuine than those smug smirks that he usually put up. “Happy Valentines, bro.”

“Ooh!” Karkat looked up, seeing Feferi push over a few of her Passion Fruit Caramel Chocolates to Karkat. “Here! These are the ones I made for you.”

“Is it time to give our Chocolates to Karkat?” asked Nepeta excitedly before bouncing over and placing cat-shaped Lime-filled Chocolates on the plate in front of him. “Happy Valentines Day, my furr-end!”

Before Karkat could react, there was soon a _pile_ of Chocolates in front of him, each of various sizes, types, flavors, and, most importantly, _from_ _everyone_.

Karkat’s cheeks lit up. “What the fuck is this? You’re only supposed to give to your own quadrants--”

“I do believe that you more than qualify if that’s the case,” said Kanaya with a knowing smile. “After all, the Ashen quadrant exists for a reason.”

“And you’ve really helped out a lot, Karkat!” said John cheerfully, before scowling at Terezi. “I bet he’ll like mine better.”

She sneered, before pushing her Amarena Cherry Chocolate closer. “You wish, dork, it’s obvious that he _matches_ mine--”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Karkat interrupted, looking at the pile of Homemade Chocolates in front of him before back at the various humans and trolls. “I’m not fucking Ashen for all you fuckers!”

“At least Pale then,” said Jade, with a finger on her chin. “I mean, you’re always having feeling jams with everyone and helping us with our problems, right?”

Karkat sputtered even as he heard Dave laugh beside him. “That’s… that’s not _remotely--_ ”

He stopped, thinking ot himself, before reaching out with an expectant expression. “Actually, you fuckers are right!” he said with a victorious sneer. “I _am_ always helping you out with your shit, so I deserve at least half of all your Chocolates!”

Arguments erupted from all sides of the table as Karkat argued right back. All the while, that annoying, but familiar by now, feeling welling up inside of him, making him unpleasantly warm and trying to force a smile on his face. It was easiest to cover it up with more screaming, so that’s just what he did, though even he knew that no one was fooled by his forced bluster.

He had no clue how it had gone from the conflict threatening to tear them apart a year ago to this bullshit, but he couldn’t find himself caring since he actually preferred this chaos instead.

Or, rather, he _did_ know the culprit to this current circumstance…

Karkat glanced at the Book on the seat beside him. In between breaths, he subtly placed one of the various Homemade Chocolates upon it.

He didn’t say anything, and the Book didn’t react.

When he looked back at the Book again, the Chocolates were gone. Only the rich smell and remnants of sprinkles across the words, _The Magic of Cooking_ , as proof that Karkat had set the Homemade Chocolates there.

Karkat snorted before going back to argue with everyone.

_The fucking Magic of Cooking indeed…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah! The Magic of Cooking! Woot!
> 
> Haha, it was actually pretty enjoyable to look up various gourmet chocolate flavors and match them to whatever troll or human I thought fit well enough. Like I said before, I was inspired by my own cravings for chocolate lol. 
> 
> Anyway, in case it wasn’t all clear, the new relationships that showed up here are Eridan(pale)Kanaya, Rose(pitch)Gamzee, Nepeta(flushed)Jade, Jade(pale)Feferi, Equius(pitch)Jade, and Tavros(pitch)Feferi. I think that’s all the ones I threw in there after a LOT of thought and consideration. Karkat explains a bit why each pairing works but it’ll admittedly not be fully explained how it all happened until the chapters they all show up in (which is sadly very far off cause I need to get through the canon and already decided pairings first). 
> 
> I have to say though, my favorite unconventional pairings of the bunch are Tavros(pitch)Feferi and Rose(pitch)Gamzee while Equius(pitch)Jade is fascinating to me. Haha, I have a thing for pitch relationships I think. Well, I think they’re under-appreciated untapped potential. And, with writing (and the Magic of Cooking), anything is possible! ^V^ 
> 
> But! If you had any questions on why I chose whatever relationship I did, feel free to ask! I REALLY did think them all through a lot. Like, my school was having a yearly event and concert, and I spent most of it typing away on my phone trying to figure these pairs out XD 
> 
> Anyway, please leave a Comment and Kudos! I hoped you liked this Valentine's Day Special/Future Sneak Peek~!


	8. Apples and Arguments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Karkat first made the Blended Apple Tea recipe all that time ago, he hadn’t expected this to happen. Fucking Book probably planned it all along…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this pretty quickly. Drove about seven hours yesterday and then driving another seven hours on Sunday. Like, the entire chapter, I was thinking, “Man, Karkat, I know how you feel. I should be sleeping too.” 
> 
> Still, DAVEKAT!!! ^V^ I want to state that, since the Book first opened to that Blended Apple Tea page, I'd BEEN PLANNING THIS!!! Or, er, at least the idea. 
> 
> Also, I'll fix the spacing later when I get time... probably...

_Where was everyone? He… he wasn’t alone, was he? No, **no** , that was impossible! Where the fuck was everyone!? They couldn’t be dead. If anyone was going to die, it should be **him** —_

 

_Thump_

 

Karkat gasped, wrenching himself into a sitting position as he felt _something_ collide with his head. He struggled, feet and arms _stuck_ , before slowly realizing… those were his blankets, weren’t they? He would know those boring, depressing gray sheets anywhere.

 

He breathed out, blinking out the sweat that dripped into his eyes as awareness returned to him from the night terror. How… grubfucking _stupid_. Had he really almost freaked out and lost all sense from a simple night vision? It wasn’t even like he was a highblood, who had _really_ terrifying nightmares, which meant that, as low and nonexistent as he was on the spectrum, a mutant should only get the ‘fluffiest’ of terrors. Or maybe his status as a mutant fucked that up too? Did it even matter?

 

Karkat groaned— _it didn’t matter what time it was; it was too fucking late for this bullshit—_ glancing over to his holding stand to where the Book was laying open, pages opened to a very familiar bright red recipe. Given how far off the stand It was, he was pretty sure he knew what had woken him from his nightmare.

 

“Thanks,” he said gruffly, feeling ridiculous for talking to a Book but slowly giving into the facts, as he stood from disgustingly sweaty sheets. There was no fucking way he was going to get back to sleep, so he might as well take the Book’s suggestion and make some more Blended Apple Tea as he did every time he was fucked over by life.

 

He slipped out of his bed— _not a recuperacoon like any self-respecting troll should have because this fucking meteor was stupid—_ and winced as he felt the cool sensation of the floor on his foot wigglers. Grubfuck, that was cold.

 

Was it too late to try and go back to sleep? Maybe he could hit himself with the Book until he passed out from think pan trauma? As tempting as the thought was, the adrenaline coursing through his veins and pounding of his blood pusher told him how much of a failed— _and stupid—_ idea that would be.

 

Grumbling, he gritted his teeth as he crossed over the metal flooring and into the hallway, quickly walking the memorized path to the meal block. He met no one else along the way, which wasn’t the least bit strange given the time his internal clock was telling him it was— _time when every self-respecting being was asleep time that was the fucking time—_ and was at the meal block in less than a minute.

 

Once inside, he switched on the lights and walked over to the cabinets, pulling out the necessary items for the Blended Apple Tea that he knew how to make from memory by now. He’d probably made the shit a hundred— _well, that was a bit of an exaggeration, so sue him—_ times in the past few weeks so he should _hope_ that he had it memorized. If he hadn’t by now, you might as well have delivered him the nearest culling drone and called it a service to the unforgiving Universe.

 

While rummaging, Karkat paused when he felt his hands close around something cold, and definitely not the Dried Peppermint container he had been going for. He pulled it out, blinking in disbelief as he read the label: _Ketchup_. What the fuck?

 

He looked for the Book, halfway wondering if It had thrown in another weird-as-fuck ingredient into the recipe, before realizing that he had forgotten It in his respiteblock. He paused, feeling a bit odd at the fact that he was cooking without It around.

He shrugged, setting the Ketchup down on the counter before rustling around the for the rest of the _proper_ ingredients. Perhaps the meal block was just acting weird because the possessed Book wasn’t here. Oh well, as long as it provided the shit he needed, he really didn’t care.

 

His movements were rather rhythmic and robotic by now, fueled by exhaustion, stress, and muscle memory. He wasn’t sure when he brought out the kettle and added all the necessary pieces, but he soon he was staring as the pot began to _slowly_ boil.

 

Karkat placed one elbow on the countertop, balancing his chin on the palm as he watched it take far too long to cook. Seriously, did it really take this fucking long every time?

 

Eyelids drooping, he decided it would be fine if fine if he closed them for—

 

“—shit, Karkat? That you, bro?”

 

For the second time that night, Karkat’s limbs moved without his violation. He sprang up and _smacked_ his head against the still open cabinet door, cursing up a storm as he immediately ducked and knocked over something on the countertop with a soft _thump_. He didn’t give it much mind, too busy bringing his hand back up to his think pan where a _throbbing_ pain now existed.

 

He spun around, more than wide awake _now_ , and growled at the intruder.

 

Dressed in stupid as fuck boxers— _wait, were those quadrant symbols? What the absolute fuck was wrong with this shameless bastard—_ t-shirt, _and_ those obnoxious as hell shades, Dave Strider was most _definitely_ the definition of an intruder.

 

“What the _fuck_ , Strider?” Karkat growled, glancing down at the unconventional— _and that was the only reason he was staring, goddammit—_ clothing wear before back at that horribly arranged facial structure.

 

Strider, however, wasn’t answering. In fact, he was just staring.

 

Karkat was about to ask if his think pan had finally collapsed when Strider quirked a brow, his lips pressed together. “Dude, is that blood?”

 

The troll paused, gaze immediately going to his fingertips where… _red_ covered them.

 

Calm left him.

 

He grasped his fingers to his chest, backing away from Strider as if he was diseased— _no, as if he the Condesce herself—_ as he tried to look for a way out. Shit, shit, _shit!_ _He had to get out, they were going to find him, cull him, that fucker had seen it, had seen his **blood color** —_

 

“Is that…? Wait, wait!”

 

Karkat’s breath hitched as Strider took a step forward, eyes darting around like crazy for a way out. Why the _fuck_ had he come here? He knew better to go into a room without multiple exits. _He was going to die—_

 

“Karkat, wait!”

 

Before Karkat could bolt, Strider was suddenly _there_. And, not only was he there, he was wrenching Karkat’s bloody— _bright **red red red red red** —_finger to him. Before Karkat could yell at him, could kick, punch, _anything—_ Strider rubbed a bit of the blood off and putting it into his mouth.

 

His thoughts stalled.

 

… _what_?

 

Dumbfounded, the mutant stared, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Had Strider… just _tasted_ his blood? What. The. _Blithering Fuck—_

 

Strider smiled— _oh God, humans were cannibals, or, shit, did it count since they were different species oh fuck how had they been on the meteor with these monsters—_ before speaking slowly and clearly, “Ketchup.”

 

…or not so clear.

 

Before Karkat could scream, Strider was pointing over Karkat’s shoulder. And, since he was completely out of it and had no escape, the mutant actually looked:  

 

…there was a puddle of Ketchup on the countertop, the red not-quite-liquid spreading upon it. The cap to the glass bottle laying beside the mess, likely having fallen off when Karkat knocked it over earlier after bumping his head. He must have put his hand there before touching…

 

His face alit with red and he looked away, blood pusher still attempting to jump out of his chest but no longer loud enough to deafen him, grumbling under his breath. “I… I knew that.”

 

It was complete shit. Karkat almost didn’t blame Strider for his snort.

 

 _Almost_.

 

Karkat sneered. “What the fuck are _you_ doing up?” he challenged, getting into Strider’s face. If the blithering waste of oxygen was going to question him, he was sure as fuck going to question him right back!

 

_His sudden vehemence for answers had nothing to do with venting the emotions he had felt when he thought he his blood color had been revealed and he was somehow back on Alternia—of course not._

 

Now, it was Strider’s turn to tense and he appeared to look away. “Uh… no reason, really, Karkat, no need to talk about it. In fact, let’s pull a Rose, do you know why you had such a violent reaction to the stimuli—”

 

“Shut your pie hole—” Strider snorted and Karkat would not admit that he blushed at the unintentional pun— _it wasn’t a pun!_ “—I have no desire to be subjected to the intrusive mind games that your ectosister plays and, if it wasn’t obvious, _I_ am the one who asks the questions here.”

 

The way Strider fidgeted in front of Karkat made it obvious that he was hiding something. It was then that Karkat realized that this was the first time that the two had actually talked for _weeks_ since the Vanilla Beginnings Cake incident. Not that he had _missed_ the idiot, no fucking way, but, as their Glorious Leader, he _did not_ take well to being ignored.

 

“And I’m surprised you’re even _gracing_ me with your presence now,” taunted Karkat. “What? Run out of meteor space to avoid me in? I’d suggest going to the basement, _fuck_ knows no one would care if you got eaten by whatever the horrorterror is down there.”

 

Karkat knew he had gone too far when Strider was suddenly a few feet away. He wasn’t sure when the other had moved— _flashstepped—_ but the sudden distance felt… weird.

 

He glanced at Strider’s face but saw that it was as expressionless as ever. Or, no, it there had been emotion there before… before Karkat had _opened his fucking mouth_.

 

“Fuck _you_ , Vantas,” muttered Strider as he turned, not even able to see the gaping motions that Karkat’s mouth was making. “Fuck this shit, I’m going back to my room.”

 

“Wait, Strider—” Karkat cut off, unsure of what he wanted to say. Of what he _could_ say? Shit, had he gone too far? Of course he did, it was what he _did._ It didn’t matter that Strider was a douchebag of epic proportions who had been avoiding him ever since the _incident_ with the Vanilla Beginnings Cake, he was still… on the meteor, still in Karkat’s realm of interaction, and his… responsibility. “Wait, I—”

 

He lifted a hand out, knowing that Strider was about to disappear at any moment, when the smell of _Apples_ hit him.

 

_Hhhhiiittttttsssssss!_

 

“ _Fuck,_ ” Karkat swore, rushing over the to the kettle of Blended Apple Tea where the thing was boiling over. Shit, he hadn’t been watching it enough. He could literally _smell_ the burned apples in the air—

 

“…is that apple juice?”

 

Karkat nearly leaped out of his skin when he heard Strider’s voice over his shoulder, only avoiding doing so since he was too busy mixing the finished Blended Apple Tea with a spoon.

 

He glanced towards Strider, wondering what he was still doing here. Karkat had, again, put his foot in his mouth and spouted the biggest bullshit possible. He didn’t blame Strider for avoiding him— _if nothing else, their very short conversation proved that Strider had been avoiding him—_ when he had such _amazing_ comments to say. Really, he deserved to be culled and left alone _just like in his dream—_

 

“No,” he responded to Strider’s question, avoiding his thoughts. If his hand was shaking as he stirred the green liquid, well, he was fucking tired, okay? “It’s _Blended Apple Tea_.”

 

“Smells like apple juice.” Strider wrinkled his nose. “Even if the color is weird. What’s that, lime? Like, fuck, did you chop down the tree and add the leaves in with it?”

 

Karkat scowled, temper returning even as it warred with confusion and a strange sense of relief. “ _Please_ , like I don’t see your mouth watering over it. If you really wanted some Strider, at least man up and admit it.”  

 

Strider frowned. “Wait, what? No drooling here, dude. Completely drool free. Babies will be in fucking awe over my non-mouth watering game—”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” said Karkat, _way_ too tired to deal with this bullshit and confusion and everything relating to _Strider_. Why had he gotten up again? Surely no night terror was worth this grubfucking idiocy. “If you want some, stop fucking around and get two cups already.”

 

Karkat could feel Strider staring at him, no doubt wondering the troll’s game. It should be obvious, wasn’t it? Karkat would admit that he had _slightly_ gone overboard with his words from before, so now he was _benevolently_ offering Blended Apple Tea— _not Apple Juice, that was far inferior to his magnificent creation—_ as a silent apology between comrades.

_Shut the fuck up, it was perfectly normal._

Strider leaned against the counter— _and he was **still** in those ridiculous as fuck boxers; not that Karkat thought he would randomly take them off and oh fuck that was a really stupid thought—_ with a smirk, though it looked far more plastered on than his usual attempts during the day. Karkat wondered if it was just tiredness or whatever mysterious topic was causing this douchebag to still be up at this time.

 

“Shit, man, if you wanted to apologize,” Strider teased. “I’m man enough to take it to the face. I’ll even forgive you like the awesome guy I am.”

 

“The only thing you’ll get to your _face_ ,” warned Karkat, grabbing two cups from the cabinet since Strider was obviously _inept_ at doing it himself. “is _my fist_.”

 

“Ooh, that’s, uh, hate-flirting right? Sorry, Vantas, this southern belle doesn’t put out on the first date.” Strider waggled his eyebrows, but it was a short gesture.

 

Karkat rolled his eyes, more certain than ever that something was… off, but pouring two servings of the piping hot Blended Apple Tea and pushing one cup over. Strider seemed surprised, as if he actually hadn’t believed that Karkat would give him a cup.

 

“I don’t know why the fuck you’re awake,” said Karkat. “But it’s _way_ too late for your bullshit. You don’t want to talk why you’re up? Fine, neither do I. So, let’s just drink this shit and pretend this never happened, alright?”

 

Karkat quickly blew on his tea before tipping it back with an exaggerated motion, keeping his eyes on Strider. As a result, he was able to see the other hesitate for a moment before the smell seemed to get to him and he was taking a short sip.

 

While he couldn’t see Strider’s eyes, he did see his entire body tense as he swallowed. Karkat prepared for the complaints—

 

“Whoa,” Strider said, voice holding a bit of awe. “It’s not as good as apple juice but it’s… pretty dope.”

“Blasphemy,” deadpanned Karkat, trying to hide the way his blood pusher fluttered at the words. It was weird. He never felt this way while cooking with anyone else on this stupid meteor. It was probably just that he was tired as fuck and had a near heart attack earlier. Yeah. “You know how complex this recipe is? Your tasting buds can’t even _handle_ how far superior this is to simple Apple Juice!”

 

“Whoa, man, don’t be hating on the AJ,” said Strider, lips tugging into a smile. “I mean, your tea and AJ are cousins! Don’t be hating on family, bro. Be starting an interspecies war between the apple family tree. It’ll be every Delicious for himself with Honeycrisps going after the Galas and Fuji having to choose between honor and glory and making Granny Smith so sad that all her grandchildren are fighting it out—”

 

“I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about,” Karkat said, draining his cup before setting it down on the countertop. He doesn’t see Strider’s reaction as he walks off, which was probably a good thing. “But feel free to sample the rest of the obviously _superior_ drink. I’m going back to my respiteblock.”

 

Later, Karkat would deny that he was running away— _much like Strider had the last time the two of them were alone in the meal block together—_ but, at that moment, it felt a _lot_ like a less than tactical retreat and more like he was a barkbeast with his tail between his legs.

 

He told himself that he was doing the best thing. That since he had screwed up with Strider again, it was only right that he made up for it best he could. Karkat had already had the necessary amount of Tea to allow sleep to come back to him, so it was more than fine to leave Strider with the rest of the pot to drink— _unless he had just been faking that he liked it; there was no way the asshole would ever compliment anything Karkat did—_ as he… mused, or whatever the fuck he was doing at this time of night instead of resting.

 

For better— _or worse—_ Strider didn’t stop him as he exited the meal block nor did Karkat hear his footsteps following him as he returned to his respiteblock. He pushed down whatever feelings that thought brought him— _it wasn’t disappointment; why would he be disappointed? The only reason that Strider would have chased after would have been to chew his ass out—_ and quickly went to lay in the bed, consciously ignoring the Book on the standing table beside him.

 

“Did you know he was obsessed with Apple Juice?” Karkat asked finally.

 

The Book didn’t respond, but Karkat did notice that the pages were now shut from where It had been open when he had first left his respiteblock an hour ago.

 

Unsure how he felt about the thought, he turned away from the Book and closed his eyes, letting exhaustion lull him back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly not too many puns in this one. Not much room with either of their less than savory moods. Oh well, they shall return with Dave’s next appearance I swear! It’ll be a popping good time! 
> 
> Please leave a Comment or Kudos to let me know what you think!


	9. For The Love Of Lasagna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lasagna is a delicious and hearty meal that'll help strengthen anyone who eats it... physically and emotionally. After all, like Lasagna, everyone has layers they need to get through to heal...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lasgana is literally one of my favorite recipes and I swear I make it at least twice a month. Though, a far simpler recipe than the one I’ve described here. Lol, what can I say? Broke college student life. 
> 
> Also… LOOK AT THE AMAZING ARTWORK THAT VioletMoon123 MADE FOR THIS FIC!!! It’s from Chapter 4 too and it’s SO GREAT! You can follow the link or just go to Chapter 4 and see it in there—really, it’s incredible! 
> 
> https://moonsmittenvioletta.tumblr.com/image/171467755679

                                                                            

“Oh, uh, hi, Karkat.”

Karkat looked up from where he was reading the Book— _again; there seemed to be an endless number of fucking pages which was bullshit—_ to see Tavros wheel into the meal block. He lifted a hand in greeting, not minding the bronzeblood’s presence.

“Hey, Tavros,” he said distractedly, flipping another page that apparently had ‘ _Marshmallow’_ as an ingredient… why the fuck would someone want to eat a pure sugar monstrosity that apparently was _fluffy_?

After a moment of silence— _or, more accurately, the absence of squeaking wheels or rolling metal—_ Karkat looked up again, noticing that Tavros was in the exact same spot as before. The other troll fidgeted, not quite looking at Karkat, and the mutant sighed. “What is it?”

“Why, uh, would you think anything’s wrong?”

Karkat rolled his eyes, going to flip the Book closed but only succeeding to flip half the pages closed—the pages stopping at a bronze and purple colored page. _Of course…_

“Is this about Gamzee?” asked Karkat, glancing at the page and reading the recipe’s name:

**_Three Layer Lasagna_ **

_You can’t go wrong making this deliciously rich and meaty meal. Perfect for comfort and putting some weight on those bones!_

“And…” continued Karkat, studying the words for a moment before looking back at Tavros. “Does it have something to do with his health?”

Tavros stared at him, obviously surprised by his wide eyes. “How did you, know?”

Karkat rolled his eyes, wondering for the millionth time how the Book fucking knew this shit ahead of time— _and almost seemed to plan it sometimes._ Seriously, did It read their minds or something fucking weird like that? He was mutant scum, but rifling through the private relationship thoughts of him and his team was _crossing the line_.

He sighed, leaning on the tabe. “I just do,” he answered. “Now, mind telling me why you’re worried about my moirail?”

Tavros blushed, a golden hue crossing his face. “I, oh no, am I, uh, intruding on your relationship? I mean, I guess it’s really, uh, pale to worry about, something like that. I swear, I don’t mean to—”

Karkat snorted, waving a hand. “Tavros, fucking calm down. I was just asking a question. Besides, I’m well aware that you’re not interested in _that_ quadrant.”

Tavros’ blush only became more pronounced and Karkat sighed, leaning back in the chair, waiting for the other to answer his question. He himself hadn’t noticed his moirail acting any stranger than usual, but, fuck, was something wrong that he couldn’t tell? Karkat was so fucking terrible—

“Gamzee’s stopped eating sopor,” said Tavros quickly and Karkat froze.

The mutant ran the words over in his head before blinking, trying in vain to process them. He looked back at Tavros, eyes wide. “Wait, he fucking did _what_?”

“I, uh, don’t think that he’s completely stopped,” Tavros hurried to say, obviously sensing Karkat’s unease. “But, I saw him and Rose arguing, in the hall a week ago. Something about, uh, addictions and they kind of, um, challenged each other?”

“To sobriety?” asked Karkat incredulously, pulse racing. Had this really happened? Well, of course it did, Tavros couldn’t lie to save his life. But still, it was troubling and weird in so many ways. _Why_ hadn’t Gamzee told Karkat about this… encounter with Rose? And what were they even doing talking in the first place?

While Karkat’s thoughts raced, Tavros nodded uncertainly. “I’m, uh, not sure, since I’m pretty sure that Gamzee’s, still eating sopor, just, not as much.” He fidgeted, rubbing his hands together nervously. “And, I wouldn’t have thought it if I hadn’t heard, but he looks grumpier…”

“Which is why you wanted to get him some real shit to eat,” finished Karkat, still reeling from the discovery as Tavros nodded again.

“Uh, yeah.”

Karkat was silent for a moment, blood pusher clenching painfully. He hadn’t noticed anything different about Gamzee, but, upon thinking it, he _did_ recall a few times this past week where Gamzee had been less talkative as usual. It was hard to tell, since Karkat spent the majority of their time together ranting—

_…was Karkat taking advantage of Gamzee as a moirail? Just like he had accused Eridan of doing of Feferi?_

“I can… sorry, Karkat, this, uh was stupid for me to ask—"

Karkat snapped from his thoughts, realizing that Tavros had probably misunderstood his silence; how long had he been standing there like a mute bulgechafing asshole? “No, no!” he said quickly, gesturing towards the Book since his think pan wasn’t working properly at the moment. “This… what do you think about making this for him?”

As Tavros wheeled over to the Book, Karkat tried to ignore the sudden heaviness he felt. Even though he was Gamzee’s moirail, he had failed to notice this, even to _hear_ about this supposed ‘challenge’ between Gamzee and Rose. He hadn’t even known the two had _met_ each other— _though it was likely inevitable given the finite number of trolls and humans trapped here—_ nonetheless had what sounded to be a rather… pitch moment. He wasn’t sure if that was what it was, honestly had no clue, but it just meant that he was a failure as the leader and relationship-guru he claimed to be.

He tried to banish the thoughts from his head, glancing at the bronze and purple pages in the Book once more. He could only handle one problem at a time, and apparently the Book wanted him— _since when did he care what the Book fucking wanted?—_ to focus on the obviously flushed relationship between his moirail and the lowblood in front of him.

He wanted to find Gamzee immediately, demand to know what was going on and why he hadn’t told him that he was trying to quit the sopor— _not that Karkat didn’t approve, he had definitely given Gamzee the Grape Detox Tea that Kanaya gave Rose a few times, it was just…—_ but felt the best way he could help his moirail was helping Tavros _finally_ express the feelings between them.

It… was all he could do for now.

“This looks, great!” said Tavros, obviously enthusiastic as he read the ingredients out loud as well:

**_Ingredients_ **

_9 Lasagna Noodles_

_1 ¼ Pound Sausage_

_¾ Pound Ground Beef_

_1 Medium Onion (diced)_

_3 Garlic Cloves (minced)_

_2 Cans Crushed Tomatoes_

_2 Cans Tomato Paste_

_2/3 Cup Water_

_3 Tablespoons Sugar_

_2 Teaspoons Dried Basil_

_¾ Teaspoon Fennel Seed_

_¾ teaspoon Salt_

_¼ Teaspoon Coarsely Ground Pepper_

_1 Large Egg (lightly beaten)_

_1 Carton Ricotta Cheese_

_¾ Cup Grated Parmesan Cheese_

Karkat raised an eyebrow at the list. This had to be the longest recipe yet—not to mention it was definitely in the ‘meal’ category which he hadn’t really made before. Sweets and drinks, yeah, but a meal… that was new. And he also agreed with Tavros’ earlier claim that it looked good for Gamzee—clown was simultaneously the healthiest and most sickly looking one out of the bunch of them. _Which was saying something with their sorry excuse for a group._

“We get the ingredients, from the pantry and thermal hull, right?” asked Tavros and Karkat nodded, wondering how Tavros knew it but conceding to the fact that Karkat had been cooking for a quite a while now. The entire fucking meteor probably knew by now.

Since Tavros couldn’t quite reach the top shelves, Karkat got the necessary ingredients from there while Tavros got the various bits from the thermal hull. The stove and countertop were quite crowded by the time they finished, but they had everything they needed.

Karkat read the first step:

  1. _Cook Noodles in boiling water for 8-10 minutes. Meanwhile, cook Sausage, Beef, and Onion over medium heat for 8-10 minutes until the meat is no longer pink, breaking the meat up into crumbles. Add Garlic, cook 1 minute. Drain._



“Easy, uh, enough,” said Tavros, rolling over to fill a pot with water.

Karkat looked at him, deciding to handle cooking the Sausage, Beef, and Onion since Tavros was obviously going to do the Noodles. “You know how to cook?” he asked, ripping the wrappers off the Sausage before viciously chopping it to pieces— _what can he say? It was enjoyable._

“Uhm, yeah,” answered Tavros, turning on the faucet, filling the pot, before returning and placing it on the stove. “A lot when we were, uh, at our hives, actually.”

Karkat raised a brow. “So why the fuck haven’t I seen you in here before?”

Tavros fidgeted awkwardly, glancing at his wheelchair. Karkat felt like a pan-addled, nooklicking bastard. “Fuck, I didn’t mean—”

The other troll waved a hand, watching the water slowly boil. “It’s fine,” he said, tone honest if slightly nervous. “Just, um, makes it more difficult to do things. And, uh, there wasn’t really anything to cook with in the meal block a few months ago.”

Karkat snorted despite himself, even if he still felt guilty at his fucking stupidly. “Yeah,” he agreed before jerking his think pan towards the Book on the table. “Until that Thing appeared, I don’t really think there was anything here.”

Tavros looked at him curiously, tilting his head— _which made his horns almost impale the bag of Cheese, but oh well._ “Yeah, uh, I think all of us were wondering, where it came from? It just, appeared?”

Karkat shrugged, nodding. “Yeah, was just sitting there minding my own business—” _Okay, that might not be strictly accurate, but fuck it, it was his story. “—_ and the fucking Thing just _fell_ on me.”

Given Tavros’ sudden _cough_ , Karkat knew the other was covering a laugh. “That’s uh, different?”

Karkat snorted, moving all the chopped bits of Sausage, Beef, and Onion into the pan, letting it sizzle and moving it around with a wooden spoon from the shelf. “Fucking Book,” he muttered. “But it’s been… useful,” he finished lamely, unwilling to look in the Book’s direction. He knew It didn’t have a face, but he _swore_ that It could somehow be _smug_ sometimes.

Tavros nodded, placing the Noodles into the boiling water before looking at the next step:

  1. _Stir in Tomatoes, Tomato Paste, Water, Sugar, 3 Tablespoons Parsley, Basil, Fennel, ½ Teaspoon Salt, and Pepper; bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally._



“Grubfuck there are so many fucking steps,” muttered Karkat.

Tavros smiled. “That’s probably, a good thing? I mean, I don’t any of this, stuff, but it all looks good?”

Karkat shrugged. “Fuck if I know, but Gamzee will probably eat anything you put in front of him.”

Tavros flushed. “I, uh, suppose he does have an appetite—”

“I meant that _you_ put in front of him,” interrupted Karkat, a hint of a smirk on his face as the bronze glow to Tavros’ face grew brighter and he went over to gather the fuckload of ingredients for the second step. “Like I said, I’m pretty sure I know we _all_ know quadrant you’re aiming for.”

It’s silent.

Tensing, Karkat turned around and saw the expression on Tavros’ face had changed.

“Uh, everyone?” he asked, quieter than ever.

_He just kept fucking up, didn’t he?_

“I wouldn’t say _everyone,_ ” defended Karkat weakly, though he could tell the other troll knew it was a lie the way he pursed his lips and slowly stirred the Noodles. “I mean, fuck, it is a _bit_ obvious—at least from Gamzee’s side. Fucking idiot can’t keep his eyes off you if you’re anywhere nearby.”

“…Really?” asked Tavros, strangely toneless as he continued to stir.

Karkat didn’t understand what landmine he had hit. He had known that Gamzee had a flush-crush on Tavros for _ever_ , and that the bronzeblood appeared to reciprocate after getting trapped in the meteor, but it was… odd that nothing had come from it yet. Not that he was one to rush relationships, but with how obvious the two had been, it was rather odd that neither had admitted their feelings. Or, well, he expected it from Gamzee, but if the problem— _wrong word—_ was from Tavros’ side…

“Yes,” said Karkat finally, grabbing the Tomatoes and Tomato Paste from the pile and putting it into a third pot— _how many fucking pots would they need for this shit? There was only one burner left!—_ and grimacing as red slightly splattered with a _plop_. “It’s obvious that idiot is crazy about you—in all ways. I know he fucking trash at stating his feelings

“It’s not him,” said Tavros suddenly, hand gripping around the wooden spoon. “He… he’s hinted at it, but it’s _me_. I’m… I’m not good enough, for him.”

Karkat stared at him incredulously, accidentally spilling some Pepper on the countertop— _fuck_. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked, disbelief hopefully clear to the obviously delusional troll in front of him. “Why would you _even_ think that?”

“There’s no way, he can feel like that for me,” continued Tavros, as if he hadn’t heard Karkat, but a side glance told the mutant that the bronzeblood had heard but was continuing to speak anyway. “You can, uh, see me, I was useless in the game, and, even before that, I was so pathetic.”

“Tavros,” Karkat put the mixing spoon down, having finished placing all the sauce ingredients in the pan. “Where… is this coming from?”

Tavros shrugged, obviously miserable but unable to really describe it properly. Karkat had always known that the other troll had low self-esteem, and Karkat wasn’t one to talk but—

_Wait…_

“Do you think I’m a horrible moirail for Gamzee?” asked Karkat, blunt.

Tavros’ head whipped towards him, eyes wide. “No, of course not!” he said, obvious believing his words. “Why would you, think that?”

Karkat shrugged, faking nonchalance even if the question had been… harder to ask than he had thought it would be. “I didn’t notice that Gamzee was acting weird this week,” he said, continuing his blunt tone—it was the only way to force himself to admit it. “Fuck, I didn’t even know that there’s apparently something pitch going on between him and Rose. What type of ‘palebro’ doesn’t notice this shit?”

“Gamzee’s doesn’t really, uh to talk about what’s bothering him,” said Tavros, adamant. “That’s not your, uh, fault.”

“It is.” It was hard to say, but it was true, even it wasn’t the point that Karkat was going for right now. “But the fact is that _you_ noticed.”

Karkat pinned Tavros with a stare, the other troll’s eyes widening. “But that’s, uh, doesn’t…”

“Doesn’t count?” asked Karkat with a raised brow. “I’m grubfucking sure that it ‘counts’ in Gamzee’s book. Here’s another question, do you think that because Gamzee’s a highblood and I’m mutant scum that we shouldn’t be together?”

If possible, Tavros became even paler. “N-no! Of course, not! Alternia’s gone, it’s good, blood color doesn’t count—”

“So why you spouting this bullshit about not being ‘good enough’ for Gamzee?” countered Karkat, picking up the wooden spoon and stirring again as the sauce began to bubble before putting the meat pan on low heat. “Cause that sure as fuck sounds like an ‘Alternia’ thing.”

_Of course, Karkat was a fucking hypocrite, but being the only one of his kind and being a lowblood was… different._

“It’s not about that,” protested Tavros, scowling for the first time. Karkat wasn’t sure he had seen the other make the expression outside of roleplaying—good, they were finally getting somewhere. “Who am I, to pity him? He’s so strong! And thoughtful! He’s, uh, always thinking about others but I’m just—”

“All those things?” finished Karkat. “It sounds like you fucking described yourself.”

Tavros glanced down at his wheelchair, obviously about to comment when Karkat sighed, mentally cursing out Vriska for the millionth time. “That’s _exactly_ how you’re strong,” Karkat continued. “You know very well how hard it was to survive on Alternia, shit like what you went through would have killed any other troll. And, where are you now? One of the last trolls in existence!”

Tavros grimaced. “If we were still on Alternia—”

“We’re not,” cut off Karkat, something inside of him clenching in the statement. “And, even if we were, the thing you said about Gamzee being thoughtful and thinking about others? You know fucking well that was considered flawed and _weak_ back on that bulgechafing planet.”

Karkat turned off his side of the stove, flicking the button to the side a bit more aggressively than needed. “I know everyone gives you shit for being so sensitive, but that’s… that’s what Gamzee likes about you.”

Tavros looked like he was about to argue, but Karkat cut him off with another look. “Look, he’s my moirail, even if I haven’t been acting like it—” Karkat held up a hand at Tavros’ attempt to speak, glaring a bit more firmly. “—and, while I don’t know what the fuck goes through his think-pan addled brain half the time, I _do_ know that he makes his own choices. He’s never cared about that highblood shit or anything _remotely_ reasonable, no matter who’s telling him to.”

Karkat leaned against the counter, moving the pans off the burners. “If he’s flushed for you, no force in the fucking Universe is going to convince him to change his mind, and, as his moirail,” Karkat glanced at Tavros again. “I can’t think of someone better for him. He…”

He hesitated, wondering if he should be saying this, but pushed through. “He needs someone who legitimately pities him as his flushed mate but can also deal with that bullshit.” He eyed him before gesturing to the Lasagna mix beside them. “You probably have an endless supply of compliments for him, but the fact that you thought he looked terrible enough to need this shit is proof that you _also_ pity him. You might think you’re a piece of shit, join the club, but the fact that you took one look at him and felt _pity_ means something.”

Karkat breathed out, cursing himself as he realized that was the _longest_ rant he’d had in a long time. It was probably because he was feeling so fucking guilty about not noticing Gamzee’s mood, but he also… saw a bit of himself in Tavros. Sollux and Aradia, while also being lowbloods, didn’t really… think like Karkat and Tavros did. The two of them understood what it was like to feel like cull-bait and unworthy to interact with their counterparts…

… _as well as a certain purpleblood._

Tavros seemed just as stunned as Karkat was, staring at him with wide eyes but grip slightly looser on the wooden spoon.

Karkat flushed, turning back towards the Book and reading the next step out loud in an attempt to distract himself:

  1. _Preheat the oven to 375*. Spread 2 Cups of Meat Sauce into the baking dish. Layer with three Noodles and a third of the Cheese mixture. Repeat layers twice and top with remaining Meat Sauce and Cheese._



Karkat pulled out a baking dish and started layering it without further ado, dumping 2 Cups of the Meat Sauce and spread it over the bottom. Why would he fucking wait?

After a moment, he saw movement at the corner of his eye and saw Tavros scooping Noodles from the pot and placing them on top of the Meat Sauce. Karkat nodded and added the Cheese before the two of them repeated the process.

“Uh…”

Karkat glanced at Tavros before sighing. “Look, if I’d made this too fucking awkward, I can just leave since there’s only like one step left—”

“N-No!” said Tavros quickly, shaking the hand not handling the Noodles quickly. “It’s… really, _thank you_ , Karkat.”

Karkat jerked his head up, eyes narrowing. “For what? Ranting at you?”

Tavros nervously nodded. “Actually, uh, yes. I know I… can get kind of down on myself. It’s, uh, like you said, hard to break those… former ideals and, all. I still think I’m too, pathetic—”

“Pitiful,” filled in Karkat. “At least in Gamzee’s eyes.”

Tavros flushed. “Uh, y-yeah, may… maybe… And what you, um, said about Gamzee being, able to make up his own mind… I think you should, uh, also take your words to heart?”

Karkat glanced at him, startled. “What are you talking about?”

The bronzeblood scowled. “You and Gamzee are, great together,” he said, tone surprisingly firm. “But I can understand if, uh, you’re not always on the same, page and all. You guys have, uh, only been together for a like, half a sweep right? And it’s not like, you had any relationships before this, right?”

Karkat opened his mouth to argue before stopping to consider Tavros words. After all, he had just been talking about how all the others, and even himself, bullied Tavros at times—he’d even be more of a fucking hypocrite if he didn’t at least consider his words.

Words that… were actually fucking accurate. He knew damn well that he had no filled quadrants before Gamzee and was rather certain that it was same for the miracle-obsessed clown. They were grubfucking six sweeps old—it was completely normal for a troll to not have a stable quadrant until _after_ their adult molt. Even now, after being thrown into the Game and stuck on this meteor for fuck knows how long, the adult molt was still… pretty far away.

“So,” Karkat finished layering the Lasagna, pausing before he put it into the stove. It was fucking typical how far off topic this conversation had gone, but he really didn’t know how to get it back on track. “You… you think that it’s fine?”

Karkat wasn’t even sure what the fuck he was asking, but Tavros was nodding, a sudden fire to his eyes that Karkat hadn’t seen often.

“Yes,” said Tavros firmly, picking up the baking dish, backing up to open the oven, and putting it in, obviously already knowing that the next step would be to cook it. “I… I think you’re right. I, uh, still think that I’m not, good enough, but… it’s both our choices. If Gamzee really… um, wants to be with me, then, uh, I guess I shouldn’t complain?”

Karkat snorted before pausing at Tavros’ next words.

“And I think, uh, you shouldn’t either,” Tavros flushed, obviously feeling guilty because of his words but pushing through to say the rest of them. “I-I mean, feel guilty that you didn’t catch Gamzee’s mood. It’s uh, like you always say? Communication is, uh, the ‘fucking key to relationships’ and all…”

The mutant laughed, rolling his eyes even if he agreed with Tavros’ words. He _did_ say that a lot, didn’t he? Of course he was right, he was their fucking leader! A leader who didn’t understand the value of communicating with his team and his underlings with one another, they deserved to be culled instantly.

“Hey, if it isn’t my two favorite motherfuckers?”

Karkat and Tavros both turned towards the door, a certain purpleblood just _happening_ to past by and apparently see them. Of course, it really wasn’t that suspect. Gamzee couldn’t be sneaky to save his fucking life. Still, it was jarring to see the topic of their conversation suddenly appear.

Predictably, Gamzee’s eyes nearly instantly went to Tavros, a lazy smile on his face— _though Karkat could tell that it seemed more tired than usual; fuck, he really was the world’s worst moirail._ “Hey, bro.”

Tavros flushed, fidgeting again now that the Lasagna was already in the stove. “Uh, hey yourself.”

“What you two fine motherfuckers up to?” asked Gamzee, walking into the meal block and looking around at the mess covering the counter and stove.

“Making Three Layer Lasagna,” answered Karkat, before glancing at the last step:

  1. _Bake for 50 minutes before baking for 25 minutes uncovered until bubbly. Let stand 15 minutes before serving._



“It should be done in another forty minutes,” continued Karkat, brushing past Gamzee and picking up the Book— _it shuts, good—_ before sending a look towards Tavros. “Why don’t you… help Tavros finish up?”

Tavros sends Karkat a look as well— _Karkat pretends to ignore it, the best thing he can do for his moirail right now was let him finalize another quadrant—_ but blushes when Gamzee looks over at him, apparently not noticing anything wrong with Karkat.

“Sounds like a motherfuckin’ plan,” said Gamzee, in that same slow and easy tone, one that Karkat knew likely had Tavros flushing even more— _literally and figuratively._

As a result, Karkat was able to abscond without issue, thoughts and the smell of cooking Lasagna filling his think pan as he glanced down at the Book.

“Is that why you’re here?” he asked after a moment. “To… I don’t fucking know, help?”  
The Book didn’t say anything, but the colors on the front suddenly seemed a bit _brighter_. Karkat could just chalk it up to his vision orbs fucking up— _and wouldn’t that be icing on top of the cake… he did not just think that—_ but decided that nothing was a coincidence with this Thing.

“I’m shit at being the leader,” continued Karkat uncomfortably, walking slowly back to his respiteblock. “I… really have no fucking clue what I’m doing half the time. So, I, uh, guess that I’m,” he grimaced, but gritted the words out, “ _thankful_ that you’re around to, I don’t know, make the issues more obvious? I really thought I knew what was going on with Tavros and Gamzee… and the others for that matter, but it’s obvious I don’t even know my own moirail…”

The Book still didn’t answer, but he _swears_ he felt the pages flutter beneath his grip. It was fucking creepy, but he was… slowly getting used to it.

“So, yeah, thanks,” he said, humbled if still a bit heavy. He tucked the Book beneath his arm as he continued the rest of the way to his respiteblock, hearing the sound of Gamzee’s slow laughter from the meal block behind him and the telltale sound of Tavros’ squeaking wheels. “Good talk.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two side points that I wanted to bring up through this was the Alternia Mentality and Relationship Experience/Age. Really, these guys are like THIRTEEN. I don’t know about you, but I certainly wasn’t a relationship expert or at the top of my maturity and experience at thirteen--nonetheless now at 20. 
> 
> And that's with parents and friends to help me out while these guys were raised in a militaristic, hemocaste dictatorship where NOT getting along was encouraged. And with lusus being 'caretakers only' it's... surprising that the twelve trolls we love turned out as well as they did. 
> 
> Also, you can see the repercussions of being a mutant on Karkat's psyche, but don't forget that every troll had their own set of internal issues to deal with--how can you even BEGIN to help others if you don't have it figured out yourself? You tear yourself apart even TRYING.
> 
> All I'm saying is that these guys are wonderfully imperfect, young, and inexperienced in all ways--but with incredibly good hearts that, with a little bit of help, I feel like could have avoided their canon fate... 
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, what did you think? I’m always open to feedback and advice, really. Also, if anyone does artwork, like the wonderful VioletMoon123, please tell me! Seriously, it's overwhelming to think I actually got fanart. 
> 
> Please leave a Comment or Kudos to show me what you think!


	10. As Easy As PB&J

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peanut Butter and Jelly... what should be one of the simplest, and well-suited, recipes.
> 
> ...shame no one told Vriska that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually enjoyed writing this chapter more than I thought I would. And happy spring break to those who have it! ...mine doesn't start for another two weeks.

                                                               

A grey hand slammed down on the Book, blocking Karkat’s view of the recipe before him.

He looked up and scowled. “What the fuck do you want, _Vriska_?”

She sneered, fangs showing. “You’re going to tell me what you’re doing and you’re going to tell me _now_.”

Karkat raised an eyebrow. “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about,” he said honestly, leaning back in the chair since it was obvious she wasn’t going to going to leave him in peace. “And do you really think you should be talking to your _leader_ like that?”

She snorted derisively, nails digging into the Book— _if she somehow ripped a page, he’d fucking cull her._ “Please, everyone knows who should _really_ be the leader around here.”

“Yeah,” agreed Karkat easily. “Not _you_. Perhaps you need your hearing fronds checked, because I don’t hear anyone rallying to nominate your delusional ass.”

She glared, leaning in closer. “Oh? And everyone knows that the only reason _you_ are prancing around in charge is because you’re a _pale-slut_.” She snorted. “Or, would _Ashen-slut_ be more accurate? It’s not even vacilitation at this point since you’re doing _both_.”  

Karkat’s hands gripped into fists. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said carefully.

She laughed derisively, smacking the Book with her hand once more. “Really? You think I’m not _aware_ of the little ‘cooking lessons’ you’ve been holding lately? The way you’ve been butting into everyone’s perfectly _reasonable_ relationships with your arbitrary flirtations?”

“You call everyone _destroying_ the fucking place reasonable?” he asked incredulously, unwilling to back down but unable to deny that there may be some… truth in what Vriska said. “Either way, it’s none of your fucking business!”

Her fists gripped. “It _is_ when it’s _my_ quadrants you’re messing with!”

He paused before his eyes narrowed. “Wait, are you talking about your sad attempt of a kismesissitude with Eridan—”

She slammed her fist on the table, making it _rattle_. “It was going _fine_ until you and that sad excuse for a bee-loving psionic got in the way!”

Karkat raised an eyebrow. “Really? I think we all know that Sollux could kick your ass without trying, but it doesn’t even matter, because I think you know it was Eridan’s choice to ditch—”

“He didn’t ditch me!” she snapped. “You and that helmbait just worked some sort of freaking juju on him!”

He stared at her incredulously, wondering, as always, where this shit she spouted came from. “What the fuck are you even talking about? You can’t _honestly_ think that what you had with Eridan was a proper kismesissitude —”

“Of course it was,” Vriska growled. “We both hated each other—”

“You can’t really think that was anything but platonic,” Karkat interrupted, not even sure why he was having this conversation when it was so _obvious_? “Fuck, even when he tried to reciprocate, I could tell you were nothing more than _bored_ —a kismesis is supposed to light a _fire_ inside of you to improve, not make you _fall asleep_.”

For the first time, she seemed to hesitate before her eyes narrowed. “What about Tavros?” she asked hurriedly. “ _Obviously_ you helped manipulate him to pity that sopor-addled moirail of yours.”

Karkat’s eyes narrowed, wondering if she knew just how much of a slip she had made by changing the subject like that. He doubted that—he’d never seen her this riled up, but he was beginning to understand why. “I didn’t do anything to convince Tavros—”

“Bullshit!” she shouted. “It was right after he made _whatever_ —”

“Lasagna,” Karkat ‘helpfully’ supplied, a shit-eating grin at her glower.

“—with you that he and Gamzee became ‘official’,” she finished. “I know it was you! You and that _Book!_ ”

She, finally, brought her hand back, inadvertently turning the pages until it landed on a cerulean-colored page. But, unlike most of the single-colored pages, the cerulean on the page almost seemed to be… darkening and brightening? As if it was constantly fluctuating.

The recipe also appeared odd… given that there were only _three_ ingredients: Peanut Butter, Grape Jelly, and Bread.

He read the description:

**_Peanut Butter And Jelly Sandwich_ **

_Should be super simple, but some people still screw it up._

_Still, if you manage to go through the effort, it’s worth it._

_What was the Book up to now?_

Vriska’s eyes snapped down, likely attracted by the sight of her blood color. She seemed wary now, obviously believing what she had said before about the Book being cursed— _which Karat wasn’t denying, fuck no, but…_

Karkat looked down at the recipe speculatively before back up at Vriska. “Okay.”

Her eyes narrowed, even more wary. “What?”

He uncrossed his arms. “You think I’m working some sort of mind magic, fine.” He gestured towards the Book. “Surely, with your _expert_ deductions, you already knew that everything started with this... Book.”

She crossed her arms, a foil to his suddenly open expression. “Yeah,” she bit out, though Karkat could tell she was thrown off from the sudden change in conversation. “Whatever shit you’re doing, that _thing_ is a part of it.”

_Hook, line, and **sinker**. _

 “Well,” he said evenly. “If you _really_ want to see if I’m really pulling anything, why don’t you make this—” He glanced at the recipe. “— _Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich_?”

She opened her mouth to talk but he plowed forward. “Because that’s all I’ve been doing with everyone—making food. I’m telling you that your spectacular quadrant failures are your own fault, but if you want to argue it…”

He gestured a hand towards the Book. “Why don’t you put your boondollars where your mouth is?”

Karkat could see her thinking it through, obviously unused to this more ‘passive’ reaction as well as uncertain at what plan he was concocting. Honestly? He didn’t have one. Or, at least…

He glanced towards the Book. _‘Let’s see you work that so-called magic, Book. I have no fucking idea what you’re trying to do here, but I suppose I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, just this once.’_

“Fine.”

He looked up, seeing her determined expression. He waited for her to say something more, but after a moment it was obvious she wasn’t. He smirked and gestured towards the recipe. “I usually help everyone,” he began. “But I’m sure a _great_ troll like yourself can handle a recipe this simple.”

She glared but looked at the First Step, reading loudly on purpose: 

  1. _Get Bread, Jelly, and Peanut Butter._



Vriska stopped before sneering at him. “ _This_ is one of your great recipes? You’d have to be a fucking wiggler to not be able to do this!”

Karkat shrugged— _even though he did agree—_ and gestured towards the cabinets where the ingredients were likely already present. “What you waiting for?” he asked blithely, hiding the uncertainty he felt. It’s not like anything would change if nothing happened while she was cooking this— _well, she’d probably be even more insufferable—_ but he couldn’t help but feel… a bit of pity— ** _platonic pity!_** _—_ towards her.

Maybe, just _maybe_ he did feel a bit of responsibility for her failed quadrants. Even though it wasn’t his fault, everyone could make their own fucking decisions despite the evidence to the contrary, he still had stepped in like she said and led them away from her. He still believed that neither Eridan or Tavros were suited for Vriska— _seriously, why the fuck had she even been pursuing them in the first place?—_ but being rejected by not one but _two_ quadrants had to be… difficult.

_Even though she more than deserved it._

He watched her walk over and rip open a cabinet door—

_CRASH_

Karkat jolted, eyes widening as he watched Vriska leap back as a jar of Peanut Butter _fell_ from the cabinet to the floor, the top somehow coming off and spreading the gooey substance across the floor.

_What the…?_

Blinking, he scowled at her. “I thought you were going to try cooking, not make a mess!”

Vriska glared, gesturing wildly towards the cabinet. “It jumped out at me!”

He raised a brow, crossing his arms with a neutral expression. “Uh huh, _sure_. Well, luckily for you, all you have to do is open and close the cabinet and there’ll be more of that shit.”

She looked at him strangely. “…where does it come from?”

“I have no fucking clue,” he admitted before gesturing at the cabinet again. “Come on, I thought you said that ‘ _a fucking wiggler’_ could do this?”

Vriska didn’t deign that with an answer as she opened another cabinet door, though noticeably more cautious this time around. The Bread and Peanut Butter laid there innocently as she slowly brought them down and placed them on the counter before spinning to glare at him. “Where’s the Grape Jelly? I thought you said it’d all be here!”

He sighed. “It’s probably in the thermal hull. It’s a Fruit, so sometimes those things end up in there.”

“Fruit?” Her nose wrinkled even as she went over to the thermal hull. “And you would know that _how_? I’ve never heard of ‘Grape Jelly’ on Alternia.”

“It’s just ‘Grape,’” clarified Karkat, as he looked at the mess of Peanut Butter on the floor with distaste before back at her. “And I’ve been using it a lot in the Grape Detox Tea I make with Kanaya.”

She gives him a _Look_ but it’s his term to pretend nothing is amiss. Instead, he watched as she pulled hard at the thermal hull.

Which… didn’t open.

His eyes widened as she continued to jerk at the handle—but to no avail. “Do you have _any_ fucking idea what you’re doing?” he asked in awe, walking over— _even when she gave him a glare that clearly said ‘if you come one more step, I’ll rip your horns off’—_ and pulling the thermal hull open with ease—the stupid thing had some sort of ‘pressure sensor’ that made it so pulling too hard would only made it stick more. “I _know_ you had a thermal hull back on Alternia.”

“It wouldn’t open!” she protested even as she searched the container and pulled out the Grape Jelly quickly from a side container. “You and that Book are _doing_ something, aren’t you!?”

He sighed, rolling his eyes— _even if he knew fucking well that the Book was doing something; but it wasn’t like he knew much more than her—_ and went back over to the table, having no desire to be yelled at until she was blue in the face. “You can _see_ the Book is right here,” said Karkat, tapping on the recipe. “And I’m, also, _right here_ —how the fuck could we mess with you? The fact that it’s been five minutes and you haven’t even finished Step One is completely on _you_.”

She eyed him suspiciously, sneering as she stomped over to the Book, jar of Grape Jelly still in hand. “You know what? Give me all the steps! I’ll do this in a minute!”

He raised an eyebrow but allowed her to read the rest of the steps:

  1. _Prepare two slices of Bread._
  2. _Use knife to apply the Peanut Butter._
  3. _Apply the Grape Jelly._
  4. _Combine both slices of Bread._
  5. _Enjoy!_



Honestly, it _was_ laid out simple enough for a wriggler to do it, but Karkat had a feeling this wasn’t going to be as simple as Vriska wanted it to be.

“A minute?” he asked, leaning back in his chair—he had a feeling he was going to need to get comfortable. “Sure, let’s see it.”

o0o0o

_Thirty Minutes Later…_

“What the fuck!?” Vriska yelled as she wrenched her hand back from where she had been spreading Peanut Butter, tiny droplets of cerulean-blue blood dripping down her fingers and onto the pieces of Bread. “How did I even cut myself!?”

Karkat rolled his eyes. “I told you, that’s the wrong fucking knife,” he groaned, pressing his hands to his thinkpan where the migraine of the sweep had been forming ever since Vriska had walked in. “Bread knives aren’t nearly as sharp!”

She glowered at him, still gripping the double-bladed knife as cerulean dripped _everywhere_. “And I said it was fucking stupid to have a knife that dull!”

“This isn’t a battlefield, it’s a meal block!” he snapped, shifting in the chair that had become uncomfortable twenty minutes ago. “These are for _cooking_ , not culling!”

Before she could argue, he gestured to the ruined, cerulean-colored pieces of Bread that laid on the countertop. “And,” he continued. “You ruined yet _another_ two slices of Bread—at this rate, one Loaf is not going to be enough.”

“Shut up,” she snapped, angrily tossing the ruined Bread into a slowly growing pile— _he_ _despaired at the wasted food—_ of ruined pieces in the corner next to the thermal hull _._ “I’m going to do this again!”

He sighed, waving a hand even though she was already pulling out two more slices of Bread and grabbing at another jar of Peanut Butter— _the last one had somehow exploded—_ but, because of the blood on her fingers, lost grip on it. It, predictably, fell to the ground, creating yet _another_ mess of brown paste. She cursed loudly.

_For the love of…_  

“Why do you even keep trying?” Karkat asked wearily. “You know, I thought that _Eridan_ was bad at this, but apparently you _really_ couldn’t cook to save your fucking life.”

To Karkat’s surprise, she didn’t say anything, only pressing her lips together and pulling another container of Peanut Butter from the cabinet, despite the fact that her bleeding fingers had yet to be treated.  

“And this is _literally_ the easiest recipe I’ve ever fucking seen,” he continued, watching her closely for any signs of a reaction. “Really, it has _three_ ingredients and you’ve spent thirty _minutes_ on _Step Three—_ ”

Vriska slammed her fists on the counter, _smashing_ her latest attempt at a PB &J. “Lay off it, _Karkat._ When I’m done with this, you’ll be _thanking_ me.”

“Really?” he raised an eyebrow. “ _I’ll_ be thanking you? I thought this was your attempt to show me that a wriggler could do this?”

“Of course not!” she snapped, somewhat surprising him. “This is me _proving_ that you have no fucking clue what’s right for the meteor!”

His eyes widened, not expecting this, before they narrowed again. “What are you even talking about?”

She gestured her hand towards the meal block. “I already told you! You and that _thing_ keep ruining perfectly good relationships—”

“I haven’t ruined _anything_ ,” he argued. “And even if this thing is fucking creepy, It doesn’t _force_ anyone to do anything. All we fucking do in here is _cook_.”

“That can’t just be it!” Her grip tightened around the knife; he wondered if he should be concerned about that. “This, everything, it’s not how it’s supposed to go!”  

Karkat’s brow furrowed. “Not how it’s supposed to...?”

After a moment, his eyes widened and he looked at her in disbelief as understanding _finally_ dawns upon him. “Wait, are you _still_ obsessed with that Ancestor and future-seeing shit? Is that why—”

“ _Yes_!” she snaps, making a jar of unopened Grape Jelly fall over and _shatter_ —though she doesn’t appear to care. “Mindfang was—”

“Not _you_ ,” he interrupts. “Vriska, you’re your own troll.”

She sneers at him. “Don’t try that _pale_ bullshit with me—what would a _mutant_ like you understand about Ancestors?”

Karkat breathed in, about to go off on her before pausing. Slowly, he studied her. Somehow, during the time since she had entered the meal block until now, she had become a mess. But not _all_ of it was from the stains of Peanut Butter and Jelly now covering her. Her hair was frazzled like it hadn’t been brushed for days, and every part of her was tense as if she was about to explode if another thing went wrong. There was an almost _lost_ feel to her eyes, revealed after the repeated failures at making a PB &J. He could also see that she had dark circles under her eyes, the telltale sign of missed sleep and stress.

It was… pitiful.

Karkat would never care for her, or even call her a friend, but it _was_ a leader’s job to make sure their subordinates were fine… physically, mentally, _and_ emotionally.

He takes in a deep breath. “Why do you want to be like your Ancestor?”

She looked at him incredulously. “What do you mean—”

“You’re right that I don’t really get it,” he continued. “But not because I’m a mutant—you know very well _who_ my Ancestor was, so don’t even try pulling that shit. Still, it doesn’t really matter—”

“How can it _not_?” she interrupted, still looking at him like he was out of his think pan. “They’re our _best versions—_ ”

He snorted. “I sure as fuck hope not, and, even if they were, I have no intention of walking _his_ path. I’m my own fucking troll and I can decide for _myself_ how I want my life to go.”

“Really?” she pressed, coming closer to the table now. “You don’t ever worry you’ll be killed by that sopor-addled moirail of yours? Or have flushed feelings for Nepeta?”

“No?” he said, disbelievingly. “The whole fucking point of a moirail is that you _trust_ them not to rip your throat open, and, Nepeta’s nice, but I’m definitely not flushed for her.”

Vriska sneered. “Oh, is it because of a certain _human_?”

He glared. “I’m not answering that,” he said, refusing to think on what she meant. “And, even if I _did—”_ Which he _didn’t._ “— _I_ wouldn’t be the only one to have flushed feelings for a human, _would_ I?’

As expected, he saw her eyes widened before narrowing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she denied.

He rolled his eyes. “Really? If you thought you were being _remotely_ subtle about your flushed crush on that idiot,” he knew that _she_ knew who he was talking about, despite the fact that there was an overabundance of idiots on this meteor, “then you really _are_ delusional. The only reason he hasn’t got it is because it’s _John._ ”

Karkat paused, considering his next words before deciding to go for it. “Or your pale-crush on Terezi—”

_That_ made her snap.

“I— I’m _not_ pale for Terezi!” she argued, though the rising cerulean blush to her face proved she was spouting bullshit. “She’s—”

“The Descendant of Neophyte Redglare?” filled in Karkat. Now that he knew where she was coming from, it was almost pathetically easy to route the conversation. “That Mindfang killed?”

“Yes!” she agreed—it was even more pathetic how she seemed to cling to that line, as if she had been saying it repeatedly like a mantra. “So, I could _never—_ ”

“But you do,” said Karkat, his voice suddenly soft and surprising them both. “Don’t you? And that’s what’s behind all of this, isn’t it? You only had ‘feelings’ for Eridan and Tavros because your Ancestor did for _their_ Ancestors, so you’ve been denying your _real_ feelings because it ‘doesn’t fit with the script,’ right?”

She flushed further, whether it was from anger at his insinuation or embarrassment at being discovered, he didn’t know. “That’s not why—”

“Isn’t it?” he continued. “Can you _honestly_ tell me you ever _actually_ felt threatened or challenged by Eridan? Physically or _mentally_? And Tavros, the fact that you’ve bullied him more than anything proves that you don’t feel flushed for him, do you?”

He looked at her, feeling like her every thought was laid bare before him. “Not like how you feel for John, right? You can idolize Mindfang all you want, but doesn’t the fact that _they_ aren’t exact copies of their Ancestors throw a wrench in your plan?” He shrugged. “And what’s the point of trying to act out a script that no one else cares about following?”

He stared at her, steady. “You see, I at least can understand that _nothing_ ever goes as fucking planned, no matter what magic or eight balls you have up your sleeve. It’s how you _adjust_ to those bumps that’s important.”

Karkat walked over and picked up two slices of Bread. He grabbed a knife, a proper one, slathered some Peanut Butter upon the slices and then used a spoon to dump Grape Jelly evenly on one side. He pressed the slices together, not once looking at Vriska as he completed this all in less than a minute. _Done._

“So, you going to keep acting like you’re a puppet on a string? Or…” He held it out towards her,  a peace offering… and example. “Are you actually going to follow your own path?”

Vriska stared down at the Sandwich for a moment before scowling. She reached out, hesitating for a moment, before grabbing it and stomping out the meal block without another word.

Karkat snorted— _for once, that had been clear as crystal for her—_ leaning against the counter with a small sense of triumph filling him.

“How do you keep planning this shit?” he called out towards the Book.

Predictably, he didn’t get an answer, but the fact that the Book had ‘mysteriously’ closed from the Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich told him all he needed to know.

He snorted, placing a hand on the counter to lean up before freezing, feeling something _sticky_ beneath his fingers. With a slowly growing horror, he studied the Grape Jelly stain on his fingers before looking around the meal block. There were Vriska’s failed attempts in the corner, multiple dropped jars of Peanut Butter and Jelly scattered on the floor, and the stains… they were _everywhere!_

Karkat swore.

“Vriska! Get the fuck back here and clean this!”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s right, Vriska, accept the PB&J—and every other bit of symbolism that comes with it. 
> 
> Fun fact, I had to wait this long to do the Vriska Chapter. It had to be after the Sollux/Eridan, Tavros/Gamzee, and John chapters because those all helped lead to Vriska’s current breakdown and confrontation of Karkat. I had to also wait this long because, for this chapter, Karkat needed to trust that the Book knew what It was doing rather than handle Vriska like he usually does. 
> 
> A few chapters are like that (like the Nepeta Chapter can't happen until after the next DaveKat chapter, *wink*) so I really do have a loose plan for this stuff! 
> 
> Please leave a Comment or Kudos to tell me what you think!


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